Dear Storybrooke
by tonguemarksonmymirror
Summary: When fighting in the town of Storybrooke comes to a boil, one citizen decides to take matters into his own hands by creating an anonymous advice box. How will matters unfold?
1. Sincerely, A Concerned Citizen

**Author's Note:** I'm back with more stories! This is an idea that struck me randomly one day, and I finally decided to follow through on it. It is utter and complete crack, so don't take it too first chapter is just an introduction, but every chapter after this point will include a letter and a response. This story will have quite a few more chapters than my stories usually do, and it's my attempt to ease into longer length stories. I will do my best to update weekly, but I may not be timely, and I apologize in advance. The identities of the people writing the responses (or the writer of the first letter mentioned at the bottom of this chapter) will not be revealed until the next chapter, but feel free to guess at them with a review! The identity of the person responsible for "the box" will not be revealed at all, or at least not until this story has reached its close (I have not decided yet), but the first person to guess in a review will have earned a story of their choosing written by me. I'm not sure if any of you view that as a treat, but being in control of your very own story seems like good incentive to me. If someone does guess, I will acknowledge them in the introduction to the next chapter and reveal the mystery person to all. Hint: this person will not be writing or responding to a letter. Hopefully at least a few of you will enjoy this story, and please review!

**Standard Disclaimer:** I do not own Once Upon A Time. Does this come as a surprise to any of you?

Sincerely, A Concerned Citizen

The town of Storybrooke was in complete chaos. Full out fights were unfolding in Granny's diner. Mothers were screaming at daughters, and husbands were arguing with wives. Friends fought like enemies; lovers forgot their tenderness and exploded vehemently at each other. Everyone quarreled like cats and dogs and a few fist fights had erupted near the bar. Food was flying everywhere, hateful curses ringing out for all to hear. The whole town was involved in this uproar, save one person. One person was quietly observing the situation, sitting in the background. One person could see the town going to hell, and decided to do something about it.

The next day, there was a box nailed to the telephone pole in front of Granny's. In the box, there was a legal pad, the type where one can simply tear off the sheets, and a pen. Above the box, there was a sheet of paper with a letter typed on it. The letter read:

_People of Storybrooke,_

_ This madness cannot go on any longer. When did our town stop being one of love and become one of hate? Fighting is not the answer. It will not solve your problems. All it will do is stir up anger and animosity among you. I have thought long and hard about the cause of this chaos, and have concluded that it is due to problems that our townspeople have, but cannot resolve on their own. The obvious solution would be to talk to someone about them, but it is difficult to let people in to know your deepest secrets. Therefore, I have come up with this box. In it, you will find a pad of paper and a pen. The rules are simple. Write down your dilemma on a piece of paper, tear it off the pad, and place it in the box. Address the letter to 'Dear Friend', because we are all friends in this town, and we need to remember that. Within 24 hours, someone needs to find the letter and answer it honestly, but kindly, putting themselves in that person's shoes, and then place the reply back in the box. That person will then have earned the right to write a letter about their own problem and place it in the box. This process will continue until the entire town has had a turn to talk through their troubles. All of this will be anonymous, of course; sign your letters with a pseudonym, preferably one related to the issue at hand. This will lessen the risk involved for you, and hopefully make it more likely to be successful. I sincerely hope that this will be enough to mend the damage we have done to our once kind and loving community._

_ Sincerely,_

_ A Concerned Citizen_

The box stood unchanged for three days. By this point, the entire town had read the letter, puzzled over what it could mean, and what they should do, but nobody had written a letter, no one wanting to be the first. Finally, at sunset on the third day, someone walked up to the box and placed a neatly creased sheet carefully into its bottom.


	2. Sincerely, Misunderstood Mother

**Author's** Note: Happy Once Sunday everyone! What did you all think of this week's episode? Very exciting, to be sure. To celebrate, here is an update, as promised. To clarify some things: I intend to set this during the curse, simply because it suits the letters I have planned better. I'm sorry if this is not what you expected, but this story is complete crack, so I'm a bit more lenient with it. Likewise, the timelines will bounce around a bit in order to capture every character's particular problem that I would like to highlight. I promise, I will try not to let it interfere with the writing. Most problems will be ongoing, as is the one depicted in this chapter, but some will be time specific, like the next chapter. Without further ado, here is the chapter, enjoy!

* * *

Someone was walking that next morning, on their way to work. That person left Granny's, checking the box out of a quickly formed habit. Nothing had changed in it for the past three mornings, but everyone still felt compelled to check anyways. This morning, however, was different. A letter had been placed at the bottom of the box, the top sheet of the legal pad neatly torn off. The letter was quickly taken out of the box, and examined. It was folded meticulously along a sharp crease, and as it was opened, its interior proved no less fastidious. Neat, beautiful script graced the page, elegant letters looping across it.

_Dear Friend,_

_ Well, this is ridiculous. Whoever started this box will have hell to pay from me. Rest assured I will find out who you are and you will answer for your actions. However, I do agree with our mysterious well-doer that a change is needed in our town, and considering my position, I felt I should set the example. So, here goes. I have a problem. My son refuses to have anything to do with me. When I adopted him, I did so with the fullest intention of having a child to care for as my own, a child to love with all of my heart who will love me back. Things didn't quite turn out as I expected. Ten years later, he says he hates me and calls me evil. All I've ever done was what was best for him. I may have been stern with him, but that was only to help him reach his full potential. I don't think that makes me evil, do you? I've raised him up practically since birth, weathering sickness, tantrums and fights. For years, he loved me as a son should, giving me smiles and flowers, but then suddenly, I wasn't good enough for him anymore. He abandoned me, preferring the company of his teacher and the insufferable woman who calls herself his birth mother. Every attempt to earn back his love has been cruelly shot down. He has made it more than clear that he doesn't love me. My heart shatters into pieces every time I am reminded of it. He is the light of my life, and I don't know how I can go on any longer living without his love when all I do is pour out all of mine into him. If there is a single compassionate soul in this town, take pity on this poor mother and help me deal with my unloving son._

_ Sincerely,_

_ Misunderstood Mother_

The person who had chanced upon the box chuckled quietly. The identity of the letter writer was more than apparent, but that didn't make the response that needed to be given any easier to write. How exactly would one go about telling their mayor how to treat their child? Maybe the reply could wait until after work.

* * *

Finally, as she walked by the box for the seventh time that day, Regina found her letter back in the box with the words _To Misunderstood Mother_ written on the front. She took it quickly home and headed straight to her study. As soon as she was sure that she would not be interrupted, she unfolded the paper and read the reply. It was written in small, perfectly formed cursive, the letters as neat as her own but lacking her effortless elegance. Clearly her mysterious responder had taken great care when crafting the response. Regina could have spent all night analyzing the handwriting of the "friend" that had found her letter, but she forced herself to focus on what the words said instead.

_Dear Misunderstood,_

_ First of all, let me begin by saying that I am truly sorry that your son does not love you. Nobody deserves to go through life unloved, especially not a mother. Every child needs a mother, but every mother also needs to be appreciated by her child. To be denied that love is a cruelty that no mother should be forced to endure. My heart breaks with yours as I read about your plight. I do not have any of my own, but I love children dearly, and have always wanted to have a daughter. But this letter isn't about me; it's about you. Sorry for talking of my own desires when I should be focusing on helping you with yours. Have you considered if your son is maybe just having trouble expressing his emotions? He's at that period in his life when boys are told to suppress their feelings, and many of them end up emotionally stunted as a result. Just a thought. I don't think you are evil at all. As you said, you have tried your best to do what is best for him, and that is all anybody can ask from a mother. You have given him a better upbringing than most people can even dream of, and he should be grateful for that. He should love you simply because you are his mother, but your concern for him has surpassed the basic criteria required of a parent and has proven exemplary. There is absolutely no reason for you to keep living life unsatisfied with a one-sided mother-son relationship. Perhaps you could sit him down for a talk and tell him how you feel. It is entirely possible that at his age, he is simply unaware of the pain he is causing you. By talking, you could both express your side of the story and come to the truth. Tell him that although you were not the one to give birth to him, it does not diminish your love for him one bit, but is in fact proof of its strength because you chose him. When he sees how much you truly love him, he will be sure to reciprocate it with love of his own. I wish you the best of luck with your son!_

_ Sincerely,_

_ A Friend_

Regina read over the letter with a smile. It was optimistic to the point of naïveté, and cloyingly sweet. She had an inkling as to the identity of her mystery advice giver, and it made her feel more than slightly uneasy about doing what was written in the letter. However, she couldn't deny that it was good advice. Thinking back, she couldn't even remember the last time she had had a heartfelt conversation with Henry. Resolving to take care of this matter tomorrow, Regina folded the letter carefully and placed it in her desk drawer.

Meanwhile, the person who had answered Regina's cry for help had now placed a letter of their own in the box, awaiting a reply.

* * *

**A/N 2: **Ooh, who was Regina's mystery correspondent? You shall find out next week! Until then, please review with thoughts, comments, and guesses!


	3. Sincerely, Luckless Lover

**Author's Note:** Hello, my lovelies! It's Once Sunday again, so I'm back with the next update of this story. What did you all think of the episode? Super intense stuff going on. I can't believe so many of you like this story! It was just a random idea born of too many years spent reading advice columns, but if you want more, I'll be only too happy to oblige! Thanks y'all! To clarify, this is happening during the extent of season 1, so pre-curse breaking. Nobody is aware of their FTL identities, save Regina, that I've written so far. It will span the entire season, some parts happening earlier, some later, and some will be ongoing. For the ones that are episode-specific, I will identify the time period. This chapter was tricky to write, but I hope it came out okay. Enjoy, and as always, review!

_Disclaimer: _I do not own Once Upon a Time. That privilege goes to ABC.

*This chapter takes place during the "7:15 AM" era*

* * *

Running late on the way to work, this person dashed out of Granny's with a Styrofoam cup full of piping hot coffee and no intention to check the box. It had been a bad morning. They'd been fighting again, and this time was worse than ever. Stewing, the unlucky person decided to walk right past the box, but it exuded an irresistible force, drawing the person to it against their will.

A quick check yielded a letter nestled in the box's bottom. Reluctantly, the letter was pulled out and unfolded from its soft crease to reveal its contents. Reading it through, the unwilling winner of this draw decided it better wait until a calmer time.

The letter wasn't taken out again until that afternoon. Pulling out a pen and sitting down at the living room table, the person made sure that nobody else was home before unfolding the letter once again and giving it a more thorough read through. It was written in small, neat cursive, each letter perfectly formed and looped to the next, writing straight out of an elementary school workbook.

_Dear Friend, _

_ Thank you so much for being willing to reply. You have no idea how much it means to me. My situation is delicate, and I desperately need help. I will pour out my heart and soul in this letter. Please don't judge me. It would shatter everything I have left. I did not do what I did to be a bad person, although I am aware that is how people would see me if word got out. And now I'm babbling, and you still have no idea what my problem is. Great. I'll just get to it, then. I'm romantically involved with a guy that is, how do I put this nicely? Off limits. After a dry spell, I finally had the fortune to meet someone I truly connected with, a real prince charming. It would have been perfect if he wasn't taken. We met a while ago, and although I knew he was with someone else, and still is, in fact, I just couldn't help my instant attraction to him. I know this is wrong; I do not need a lecture. I beat myself up over it enough, believe me. Very few people know about it, so please don't tell anyone. Anyways, I started seeing him some time ago, then I realized how bad this situation is, and I tried to break things off with him, but I just couldn't. He means far too much to me, and I don't know how I would go on without him. I love him, and he loves me too. Then again, he also loves the woman he's married to. It's just such a complicated mess. He doesn't want to pick, and even if he did, I would be afraid of whom he would choose. Afraid if it were her, because it would break my heart, and afraid if it were me, because then he would be hurting an innocent woman who did nothing to deserve this. I strongly debated not writing this letter at all, because I didn't want to drag anyone else into the mess I've made of my love life, but maybe getting an outside perspective could help. I'm so torn up inside, and I've already considered every option so many times that none of them no longer make any sense. At the same time, I can't keep doing this anymore. I can't be a home-wrecker. What should I do?_

_ Sincerely,_

_ Luckless Lover_

Wow. The person writing this was just a mess, wasn't she? A bad feeling struck the letter's recipient. Somehow, this scenario seemed vaguely familiar. Perhaps it had been encountered in a dream. Yeah, that had to be it. Still, it struck a little too close to home. Pulling the cap off the pen, a brisk reply was fired off. _I don't have time to deal with anyone else's problems. I have enough of my own._

* * *

Mary Margaret strolled out of Granny's holding a hot chocolate topped with cinnamon, just the way she liked it. It was a little treat she indulged in on particularly tough days, and today was definitely tough. She had put that letter into the box, exposing her deepest, darkest secret to the world. She was completely vulnerable now. Hopefully, whoever had found it had been kind in their reply.

Looking in the box, she found her letter nestled at the bottom with _To Luckless Lover_ written simply on its front. Eagerly, she pulled it out and ran home.

After she had settled at her counter, she smoothed out the now more sharply creased letter on the smooth surface and nursed her cocoa in both hands as she read the reply.

_Dear Luckless,_

_ Your predicament sure is a complicated one. It isn't my place to judge; both you and whoever put up the box barred that option. Rest assured I will keep it private. I know how to keep a secret. Honestly, I feel kind of bad for you. To be separated from someone you truly love is a fate that I've suffered for years, and one that I can understand. What I can't understand is your willingness to keep ripping apart a marriage. I can see that you love him, but sometimes, you need to let the things you love go, for the greater good. He made a commitment to his wife the day he married her, saying till death do us part, not till someone new comes along. You two can still be friends. I'm sure his wife wouldn't object to that. But for now, I suggest that all three of you sit down for a little chat and discuss your options. If he doesn't want to pick between his two paramours, that is a huge problem, and one that you have little influence on. If that is the case, then I don't know what you would want with a guy like that in the first place. It isn't fair to anyone involved: you, him, or his wife. Perhaps if you all talk it out, you could come to a decision. Or, you could just take the high road and leave him. Then, you'd stop being, as you put it, a home-wrecker. It'll hurt for a while, but you'll move on eventually. I'm sorry to be blunt, but that is my opinion. I myself am married, and I know I would hate it if my spouse did something so awful to me. I hope things work out for you in the rest of your life. Take care._

_ Sincerely,_

_ A Friend_

Mary Margaret couldn't fight back the tears stinging her eyes. She just stared at the paper, stunned at the words, those thin, narrow loops holding such venom inside them. It felt like they had personally slapped her in the face. How could someone say that? How could anyone just expect her to leave David, whom she was now sure was the love of her life? How could they suggest it so flippantly, making it sound as easy as pulling off a Band-Aid? Did they realize what they were asking of her? Crying, she reached for the bottle of Kahlua she had stashed under the counter in her cabinet. Her cocoa needed a little something extra to boost her through the night. But, the letter writer did get something right. She did need to talk to David. Maybe the next time they "accidentally" ran into each other at 7:15 in the diner.

* * *

Mary Margaret's correspondent sighed. Maybe the letter was a little harsh. Oh well. She needed to hear the truth. Folding up a second letter, the person headed toward the box to drop it off.

* * *

**A/N 2:** So, what did you all think of the chapter? Did you all guess correctly in the previous chapter? A lot of you did: props to **nahbois68**, who was the first one to guess correctly, and also to **CandyApple75**, **Kaishei**, **White Belt Writer **(hopefully the above A/N answered your question!), and **Andi88**, who also all reviewed with the correct answer. So, apparently I'm not as good at keeping the mystery alive as I thought. Oh well. I've been told though that I should take it as a credit to my ability to stay in character. You guys still like this, right? I added lots of little clues this chapter, because it was trickier to write in character, so hopefully you'll still have fun figuring it out. Now, the question is, who answered Mary Margaret? Take your best guesses in a review, and come back next week for the definite answer!

Some extra-special news: **ALPHAomega239** is officially the first person to correctly guess the identity of our mystery box-starter. If you want to know, read the reviews! Guess it was a lot easier than I thought, since it only took two chapters. I won't spoil it for anyone who doesn't want it spoiled, although honestly, I don't think the knowledge takes away from the enjoyment of the story. Stand up and take a bow! If you want to claim your reward of having a story written by me, PM me with an idea, and I'll see what I can do with it!


	4. Sincerely, Woeful Wife

**Author's Note:**Hello again! Posting early today because I want to play it safe and get this to you guys on time. Did you all figure out who started the box yet? Was it that obvious? Sigh. A master of mystery, I am not, but hopefully, you still find this story interesting. For the record, writing this chapter almost made me cry because it's just so devastatingly heartbreaking, but then again, it was just such a lousy situation. Maybe I just get overly attached to fictional characters. This chapter is a bit different with the timing because I wanted you to see the responder's point of view while writing. Just bear with me, it'll get funny soon after this! Happy Once Sunday, and enjoy!

**Madame Jasper**: That's an excellent idea! I should do that, just I don't know when, because school will keep me pretty busy, and that sounds harder than this curse-era one! But someday!

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own Once Upon a Time. I just borrow the characters and play with them for a bit.

*This chapter takes place in the "7:15 AM" era*

* * *

The letter was discovered the next morning. Every time this person checked, there had been nothing in the box, yet rumors were starting to spread around town that people had already begun writing letters. These rumors had, of course, been shrugged off, as this citizen was not one to believe in hearsay, but evidence was something that could not be doubted. A letter was indeed placed in the box and awaiting a reply. It was snatched up cautiously, and read over, all next to the telephone pole. The writing was thin and narrow, looped across the page in an almost frail manner. It was lovely to look at, but one was almost afraid it would break from the force of a gaze.

_Dear Friend,_

_ I answered one of these letters, so I have earned the right to write one of my own. I have a huge problem. Well, I'm not really sure if it's really a problem, but it's an inkling that's been nagging me for weeks now. My husband has been growing very distant from me. I finally got him back after a traumatic incident a couple months ago, but he might as well not be back at all. Whenever I try to talk to him, he only gives short answers, and it's clear his mind is elsewhere. There's a complete communication breakdown. The same goes for other aspects of our marriage. There is no closeness anymore. He pulls away from me, and I honestly don't know why. Is it something I did? Or is the problem in him? Sometimes, I think he's cheating on me. That could just be paranoia speaking, but I can think of no other explanation. He must be getting his affection elsewhere if he's not seeking any with me. I've tried my best to be a good wife. We had some spats a few years ago, but after he was torn away from me, I realized that I could put my pride aside for him, because our marriage is more important to me. I thought he felt the same way, but apparently he doesn't. Every morning, he's been leaving the house earlier than he needs to for work, and getting back late. He lingers in the diner when getting us coffee, and sometimes I see him smiling a little too long at…no, what am I thinking? My husband is a good man. He wouldn't cheat on me…would he? How can I regain the closeness we once had in our marriage? He's finally back to me, but I miss him more than ever. Please help me, because I honestly can't understand any of this._

_ Sincerely,_

_ Woeful Wife_

_Oh no. This letter wasn't meant for my eyes. I shouldn't be reading this. _ Frantic thoughts rushed through the unwilling recipient's mind. The letter writer's identity was devastatingly clear, and it was apparent that the letter was meant for someone else to find.

_How can I answer this letter? It wouldn't be fair to her. But, I have to. Those are the rules._ The letter was carefully folded and placed in a large jacket pocket. An answer could be thought of later.

Granny's was bustling, as usual. Good. The noise would provide a good cover. Privacy could often be found in the most crowded of places, a lesson the soon-to-be letter answerer had recently learned. Staring sadly at the beautifully desperate letter once more, a sigh slowly escaped the reluctant responder's mouth as a blue pen was pulled out, and a reply agonizingly scrawled out.

_Dear Woeful,_

_ It pains me to read about your plight. Nobody deserves to spend life alone, especially not a person as wonderful as you seem, and you certainly sound lonely. Don't beat yourself up over it. This situation, whatever it may truly be, because you don't know if your husband is cheating on you for sure, is not your fault. From your letter, it sounds like you have been doing everything you can to improve your marriage. Communication is certainly key, but it will do you no good if you can't see things from your husband's perspective. Try and see it his way. This traumatic incident that you mentioned has surely affected him even more so than it has you. He was the one that went through it all, and while I'm sure you were worried sick about him, from the vague description you have given, it must have been even worse for him, actually living it. It may take him some time to adjust. Be understanding with him. He may not know exactly what he wants yet, so give him a little time to figure things out. If you want to help this along, you should probably sit down and have a talk with him instead of writing an anonymous letter to someone who has no idea what the situation is really like. Marriage entails trust, and if you don't trust your husband enough to talk to him about this, then I'm afraid you have your answer about where your marriage is headed. Please think about my words; I do not say them lightly. Take some time to consider what both you and your husband want out of your marriage. Hopefully, your lists will match up. But, there is the possibility that they will not, and you have to be ready for it. I'm sorry to be the one telling you this. You don't deserve to suffer, but neither of you deserves a life without love either. I'm sorry. I really and truly am. I wish you all the best._

_ Sincerely,_

_ A Friend_

It was with a heavy heart that the letter writer signed. The moniker seemed cruel, taunting even. _A friend. A friend, when I could have, should have, been so much more than that, yet I couldn't even do that much for her._ With a long sigh, the letter was placed back in the box. Hopefully, she wouldn't take it the wrong way.

* * *

Kathryn checked the box on her way home from work. She had been avoiding it all day. Sending the letter had been a bad idea. There was no need to involve anyone else in her marital problems. She should just trust her husband. David was a good man. He wouldn't put her through that sort of torture. She was just imagining things. Maybe all they needed was some time to work things out. No need to jump to conclusions. And yet, she couldn't keep doing this, playing this perverse guessing game anymore. Their marriage was going nowhere fast.

Her letter had indeed been returned in the box. The front was labeled _To Woeful Wife_ in large, solid letters that appeared to have been scrawled painstakingly on the page, legible, yet giving off the impression that this reply had cost a lot. She read it over carefully, once, twice, three times through, before absorbing a single word.

It felt like someone had knocked the breath out of her, leaving her gasping desperately for air. How could someone be that cruel? How dare they tell her that her marriage wouldn't work out? And then, to add insult to injury, apologize for it! This person, whoever it was, was certainly no friend of hers, the letter's salutation jabbing spitefully at her heart. A friend wouldn't do this to her. A friend wouldn't tell her they were sorry, and then say that there was no hope for her marriage to the man she loved dearly! Folding it back up with a huff, she hid the letter in a drawer, where it was sure to be safe from prying eyes. As soon as he got home from work, she would talk to David. This couldn't wait any longer.

* * *

Kathryn's correspondent left the safety of the diner hesitantly. Things were clearly not going to turn out as well as hoped. Placing two letters, one old, one new, in the box, the person turned, and made the long, difficult journey home.

* * *

**A/N 2:** So, did you all guess correctly? Congratulations to **White Belt Writer, CandyApple75, sudoku, **and **Kaishei**, who did. A lot of you thought it was Ruby, which I found interesting. And honestly, I do think that Kathryn and David were the only married couple in Storybrooke, or at least, the only ones mentioned. Very curious. The last one was a bit tough to figure out, I know, but hopefully this one should be easier. Thank you once again to everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited, and followed. I never expected this story to garner such interest, but I'm glad it did, because it is so much fun to write! Don't forget to review with guesses!


	5. Sincerely, Hapless Husband

**Author's Note: **Well, here I am! I almost thought I wouldn't make it this week, but then I remembered that Once has gone on yet another hiatus, and it would be cruel to deprive my lovelies of this as well. Don't worry, a support group is being formed as we speak. Sign-ups will be taken in the form of reviews. So, instead of sleeping, as I should be, or working on my endless schoolwork, I decided to finish this off instead. Y'all are most definitely welcome! This story will soon be shifting gears into more comical territory, but romance will be a running theme, I'm afraid. Too many mixed-up love stories in Storybrooke for me not to take advantage of them! Now to respond to reviews:

To the guest reviewer: I'm glad you liked my level of angst. It's really hard not to write that storyline with angst, because it's just so sad.

**LacieAliceAlyss:**Check the rest of the reviews for the answer to the first question. And as for the second, I shan't tell you! No fair to spoil the fun ahead of time!

**CandyApple75:** I will ship Snowing to the end of the earth and back. But, when I tried to see it from Kathryn's point of view, it was horribly sad. Honestly, she was completely innocent. The situation with her and David, both in Storybrooke and FTL was always manipulated by external forces. She just wanted to be happy!

_Disclaimer:_ I still don't own Once. If I did, there would be new episodes every week full of rainbows and happiness.

*This chapter takes place during the "7:15 AM" era*

On to the show! Well, the letter.

* * *

It was ten in the morning, and this person was bored senseless. There was absolutely nothing happening in the tiny town, so how could anyone expect this resident to do their job? Ever since coming in to work, all that had been done was play endless games of solitaire on the ancient computer while waiting for something, anything, to happen. After about the fiftieth game, watching the virtual decks of cards dance around on the screen with a complete lack of interest, it was decided that enough was enough. Maybe a walk would yield some inspiration.

This walk, of course, led the wanderer by Granny's diner. Who said inspiration couldn't come in the form of a delicious burger? Biting into the juicy burger reaffirmed the belief that Granny's made the best food in town. With hunger sated and hope for a productive day renewed, the person headed out.

A glint off the advice box caught their eye. _Yes, of course! Why didn't I think of that before?_ The box would make a perfect subject. It would be even better if there was something inside it. And, there was indeed a letter resting at its bottom. The letter was pulled out with unrestrained curiosity and saved. It would be a nice way to occupy fifteen minutes at work, and might prove to be a treasure trove of information.

The letter was cautiously placed on the desk and unfolded from its careful crease. The writing it contained had a solid appearance. It was easily legible and free of frills, uncomplicated. Clearly, it was written by someone sturdy and reliable. The words, however, told a different story.

_Dear Friend,_

_ Writing this is the hardest thing I have ever done. It is not, however, the hardest thing I will have to do. My mind is made up; I know what needs to be done. That doesn't make my task any easier though .I suppose some details will be helpful. I am a man who used to consider himself happily married. Sure, we've had our rough spots, but issues are a part of life, and can be resolved. Everything was fine until a little while ago. Without going into unnecessary details, I spent some time indisposed, and when I came back around, things were just different. Being with my wife was suddenly difficult. She seems so cold and distant. I try to reach out to her, but it doesn't work. Although I know she is doing the same, no number of tries to talk it out is effective. Our conversations have been reduced to just asking how the other is doing a few times a day and how much sugar she wants in her coffee that morning. And, the weird thing is, I don't miss the closeness. It's more like I'm in love with my memory of her than with the woman I see next to me. Isn't that funny? Maybe I'm just misremembering things. Maybe our marriage was always like this, and I just need to get used to it. But, how would one go about getting used to loneliness? Doesn't matter that there is someone next to me in bed every night; I feel more alone than ever. I'm trying my best to be a good husband, and seeing how miserably I'm failing is killing me even more because I see how much it hurts her. Then, there is the problem of me finding someone else. There's a woman who just lights up my day with her sweet smile, and her eyes are like pools of infinite happiness. I don't know how it happened, but I'm drawn to her. It's like we were meant to find each other. It's odd, like déjà vu. I already know that it's wrong to have an affair; I know that continuing to see her makes me a terrible human being. But, if I am a terrible human being, at least I am one that's happy. I think-no, I know, that I am hopelessly in love with her. With a woman, who is not my wife, who I've only met a couple months ago. One thing led to another, a friendly look turned to a chat, and now, both she and I have become entangled in this awful mess. Both she and my wife want me to choose, but I can't. How can I choose between doing what's right by staying with my wife, or following my heart, and being with the woman who makes me truly happy? I don't know how much longer I can continue lying to my wife. Each lie is like a stab to her heart. On the other hand, I should be faithful to her. I considered myself an honorable man, but hurting my lawfully wedded wife like this is not honorable at all. I'll go talk to them. I need to make a decision, but in the end, every decision results in pain and suffering. What should I do?_

_ Sincerely,_

_ Hapless Husband_

The faintest hint of a smile crept on a satisfied face. This was gold. Regina would most certainly want to know about this. Making a note to tell her later, the keys began rapidly clicking as they composed a winning effort. Maybe it would even lead to a promotion.

About half an hour later, the discarded letter came back to mind. It would be a good idea to reply to it first before the poor man got worried. A harsh chuckle escaped sneering lips as the reply was crafted. Oh yes, this particular husband would get exactly what was coming to him.

* * *

David left work reluctantly. There was nothing else to be done with the animals for the night. Wearily, he trudged home, passing by Granny's and the box. He turned around to check, and sure enough, someone had replied to his letter.

He waited until he got home before he opened it. Kathryn was nowhere to be found. Weird. She was usually home before him. Shrugging, he went upstairs and saw her sitting on the bed, with papers sprawled around her covering every exposed surface, typing away on the laptop. Bothering her would be a bad idea.

Going back downstairs, he sat down at the kitchen table and opened the letter. It appeared hastily written, yet not entirely illegible, the practiced scrawl of one used to having to take down information quickly.

_Dear Hapless,_

_ My first piece of advice to you would be not to use an anonymous advice box. You never know who could find your letter, or what they would do with the information contained within. There are people in this town just waiting to find out someone's vulnerabilities so they can tear them down. That you can take to the bank. My second piece of advice is to forget about this other woman and focus on your wife. You married her for a reason, even if you can't remember what that reason is. I know that sounds blunt, but you seem like a nice guy. Nice guys don't cheat on their girls. The state of a man's marriage is a reflection of his character. You don't want your marriage to reflect bad character, do you? This other woman may seem like the real deal, but that will fade. Right now you may wish to be with her forever and to never leave her side, but be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it. And, when you do, it won't be what you expected. My third and last piece of advice is stick to what you have for sure. Don't risk it all for some woman that just walked into your life. Stay true to your marriage and yourself, and be faithful to your wife. This is what will bring you happiness._

_ Sincerely,_

_ A Friend_

David read over the letter with a sigh. The first couple lines jumped out at him, and his eyes widened in fear. What if someone malicious had found his letter? What if they had used it to blackmail him, or worse, Mary Margaret? It's a good thing his correspondent was such an altruistic person.

Reading over the rest, he had to concede that technically, his responder was right. Cheating on Kathryn was just making them both miserable, not to mention Mary Margaret. He was caught in the middle of a great big mess. But, being with Kathryn was making him even more miserable. His head said yes, but his heart said no. Somehow, he knew that there was something more for him.

But David was a good husband. He would try once more, for Kathryn's sake. It wouldn't be fair to her otherwise. He climbed slowly up the stairs leading to their bedroom and saw her in the same position, the arrangement of papers seemingly unchanged, but she appeared less frazzled. This was as good a moment as any.

He knocked quietly on the door. She jumped, pen falling out of her mouth where it had been perched precariously, and looked up toward the door.

"David" Her tone was one of surprise. "I wasn't expecting you home till later. What's up?"

"We need to talk, Kathryn."

* * *

Well, that had certainly been a productive half an hour. The information gleaned from that innocuous letter would incriminate two of Storybrooke's most upstanding citizens. Yes, Regina would most definitely be pleased. Walking back toward Granny's, David's advice giver placed the answer back in the box, along with a letter containing a new problem.

* * *

**A/N 2: **So, did you all get it right last week? It seems like you did. Shout out to **nahbois68**, **CandyApple75**, **White Belt Writer**, the guest reviewer mentioned above, and **Kaishei**, who all reviewed with the correct answer. This week's response was harder to write in character, but I gave you guys a lot more context clues, since those were easier. Don't forget to review if you think you know the answer, or just want to guess! Until next week, guys. We will weather this hiatus together!


	6. Sincerely, Aspiring Admirer

**Author's Note:** It's Sunday, so I'm back! Hope all my US readers are enjoying themselves with the Super Bowl, or, if you're not into sports, like me, or outside the US, having a good, albeit Once-less day. One more week guys, we can do it! I had a ton of fun writing this week's chapter, and I hope you enjoy it. Slowly moving away from angst into more comical territory. Just a note, a lot of the characters that will be discussed from now on are sort of one-note characters, so what I'll be doing is playing that one note as loudly as possible. So, some exaggeration is to be expected. This chapter is also where the timeline starts to be less linear and jump around a bit more.

To anyone who followed me over from Just a Number (the rest of you, do with this information what you will): Thank you for not giving up on me, or that story, and you can expect an update sometime next weekend. I will do everything humanly possible to make this happen.

**8888Dearie8888:** Patience is a virtue. I promise there will be a Mr. Gold chapter, but I won't say when!

**sudoku:** So the mystery is uncovered! I did my best to shy away from the angst this chapter, and hopefully that should be easier from now on.

_Standard Disclaimer:_ I don't own Once. If I did, it would take precedence over the Super Bowl (although a Beyonce number in the middle would still be welcomed).

* * *

Work was quickly passing as it had every previous day. It was utterly and completely pointless. The only tasks fulfilled were petty and unnecessary, ones that just as easily could have been done by someone else. After a while, the days all started to blend together. Honestly, if the mayor wasn't springing for the payroll and it wasn't so cushy, the job would have been quit a long time ago. But something just kept stopping this citizen. Something that could almost be placed at the tip of their tongue.

No work had been done for the past half hour. Too much was swirling around a worried mind. Frustrated, the person got up and went to Granny's. If anything could help someone clear their head, it was Granny's.

After finishing off a delicious pastry, the aggravated person checked the box that had stood there faithfully for a week now. Funny stories were starting to spread around town, stories about people and their problems, ones that could ruin their reputations. Well, it would be a nice change to worry about someone else's problem for a while.

Lo and behold, there was indeed a letter in the box. It was as if someone was finally looking out for them. The letter was scrawled hastily on the sheet of legal paper, the writing somewhat messy, but still legible, and the paper folded haphazardly.

_Dear Friend,_

_ Writing this letter is a bad idea. No, scratch that, it's an awful idea. But, I can't keep this to myself anymore. If word gets out, I'd be done for, my reputation gone and my job vanished, but I just need to tell someone. I'm in love with my boss. And it drives me crazy. She's just so wonderful! Her passion, her dedication to this town, are absolutely inspiring. She motivates me to do better, to be better, in order to help my fellow townspeople. Every day, when I go in to work, I think of her, and the trust she places in me to do such an important job. Sometimes, she even comes to visit me. Those days are practically perfect. Seeing her makes me happier than I ever thought I could be, and knowing that what I do pleases her is the best feeling in the world. Hearing my name drip off her lips in a honeyed voice, full of satisfaction, is better than anything. It is even better than vacation. Actually, I haven't taken a vacation in years, because that would mean being away from her, and that thought is too much for me to bear. Even when she is displeased with me, it makes me happy. At least when she harps, or says my name in that cold, harsh, wonderful tone, it means that she's paying attention and that she cares enough about me to want me to improve. And don't even get me started on her looks. When she walks through my door, it's like the Hallelujah Chorus starts playing. Her short dark hair frames her face like a halo, and her smile is no less angelic. Her eyes are deep like the darkest chocolate, pools of mystery and intrigue. They draw me in, wanting to know everything about her. And she always looks so amazing, so put together. She carries herself with such poise and sophistication, an effortless elegance trailing her everywhere. She is truly a goddess among women, sent to tempt us mere mortals. I would love to see her outside of work, but for some reason, she doesn't want that. Possibly because she's my boss. I know that it's wrong to fall for the person writing my paychecks, but I just can't help myself. She's absolutely perfect, and I love her desperately. I wish I were able to always look upon that flawless face, and hear that rich, melodious laughter that only comes with her fleeting, best moods. It's like she's put a spell on me. I can't stop thinking about her, and I just want to be with her all the time. What should I do?_

_ Sincerely,_

_ Aspiring Admirer_

The recipient of this overly sentimental letter bearing an admission of love laughed quietly with a shake of the head. _Ah, you poor sop. So she's trapped you too._ Getting back to work, the soon-to-be correspondent began composing a suitable reply.

* * *

Sidney walked over to the diner after work. Worries were streaming around his mind. What if someone had found his letter? Worse, what if someone had read it and replied? He would be done for. Accusations of favoritism were already flying around, and he really didn't want Regina to get in trouble for his illicit feelings.

He stopped in front of the box. Maybe no one had found his letter, and he was panicking for no reason. There was a slight chance but it still existed. He could just slip his letter out, and no one would be the wiser. Yeah, that's what he would do.

However, his hopes were dashed when he saw _To Aspiring Admirer_ written on the front of his letter in an untidy scrawl markedly different from his own. It seemed as if his correspondent had more important things on mind when writing the letter. The fairly large, printed letters ran into each other, resembling a sort of literary pileup.

_Dear Aspiring,_

_ You poor, pathetic sap. You've been duped by Regina. I can feel the desperation emanating from the very paper as I hold it. Yes, I know who you are and who you're talking about. Actually, I think the entire town has seen it by now. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone about what's in the letter. What goes on between you and our mayor is your business, and honestly, there isn't anything incriminating here at all. Just a man with a ridiculous schoolboy crush on his boss. No inappropriate activities of the sort that could get a man fired. Although I suppose this is worse, in a way. Being involved with someone doesn't always need feelings, and it seems like they're all you're drowning in. Feelings are more personal that way. I can't say I blame you though. Regina is quite the accomplished temptress and you are definitely not the first she's ensnared in her trap of seduction. My best advice to you is to forget about her. She's not worth it. You will never find the happiness you want with her. As appealing as she may seem on the outside, she is not all she appears to be. She is a cold, calculating snake, only lying in wait and timing her strike. All she does is use people, not form relationships with them. When she's done using you, she'll toss you on the side of the road like a lost puppy, and you'll be confused and rejected. Trust me, that's not what you want. I know it won't be easy for you, but try to get over her, for your sake, and whatever you do, do not pursue her. She will suck you in like a black hole, ripping your heart to shreds, and you will never be yourself again. How do I know all this? Let's say I have some personal experience with the matter. Keep your head up and try for someone more attainable who won't hurt you._

_ Sincerely,_

_ A Friend_

Sidney couldn't believe it. First of all, the person who'd answered him knew who was writing, and whom he was talking about. Clearly his surreptitious glances during council meetings had been less furtive than he'd thought. Second, they weren't going to tell. He sighed in relief. The last thing he needed was to worry about his reputation and credibility as a journalist being ruined by his infatuation for the mayor.

Third, and most intriguingly, his responder had "personal experience with the matter". What did that mean? Was he one of Regina's rejected suitors? Sidney could count the number on one hand. After a while, people just stopped trying, and they called her an "ice queen" not so secretly. But this guy, had he actually gotten in? Sidney felt a stab of jealousy go through his chest.

How dare anyone insult his wonderful Regina? She was just amazing. Her silky hair, her smooth, rich voice, her dazzling smile. He was smitten by it all. How could anyone claim that such a magnificent person would be so cruel?

An idea popped suddenly into Sidney's head. This guy who'd answered him, he must be one of Regina's exes. He was jealous of Sidney because unlike him, Sidney had an actual shot with the mayor! It was the only explanation! Well, this jealous ex could just take his advice and shove it.

Sidney started walking past the diner and toward Game of Thorns. Every woman loved red roses, and Regina deserved to be wooed with only the best. Two dozen ought to do the trick.

* * *

Sidney's correspondent laughed as the reply and a new letter were placed into the box. _The poor sucker is too far gone, he's not going to listen to me. But at least I did my duty and told him the truth. Now, it's on his head. _With a clink of the box lid, the responder started walking down Main Street to the regular Tuesday night destination.

* * *

**A/N 2:** So, Sidney's kind of an idiot. Kudos to **flagurl1j**, **sudoku**, **White Belt Writer**, **Kaishei**, and **CandyApple75 **(and I can totally see how you would think Emma, it sounded like her, but it seems like everyone's shirking on their duties in this town), who all guessed correctly last week. Personally, I think this week's chapter is pretty easy to guess, so I'll be looking forward to those reviews! Thanks for coming along on this crazy ride, and see you all next week!


	7. Sincerely, Heartless Hunter

**Author's Note:** Guys! It's over! No more hiatus! Brand new episode tonight! Here's hoping they don't hurt Regina too badly. But we all know that's too much to hope for. I wish I had a happier chapter for you all, but hopefully the hint of humor will be enough to make it up. Too much drama going on in Storybrooke. Glad some of you enjoyed the non-linear timeline. I will continue to use it with abandon as it suits me. Thank you all for indulging this crazy whim of mine. I'm blown away by how many people like this. Seriously, you all rock, and I'm very flattered. I'll keep it going for a while; there's plenty of season 1 characters to explore.

_Standard Disclaimer:_ I don't own Once. If I did, there would be new episodes with lots of love for Regina every week. Also, everyone would have unicorns and Nutella for reasons.

This one is for all my fellow Evil Regals. We know Regina's going to suffer somehow tonight. We'll get through it together.

To the guest reviewer: Thank you. Your review made my entire day. Have fun with the rest of these chapters. If the show ever did anything as entertaining as a Singlebrooke continuation, I would excuse everything wrong they ever did.

**sudoku: **We've pretty much established that not a lot of people really work in this town. It's very quiet and calm. You all will just have to wait and see about Mr. Gold's letter! I too am excited about Dr. Whale and Ruby's letters. And on that note, here's the chapter.

*This chapter takes place during the "The Heart is a Lonely Hunter" era* (I can hear you all saying "Yes! I was right!")

* * *

Getting off of work was the best thing that had happened today. Never had so many people come in during one day. What a nightmare.

The cup of tall, black coffee delivered was a godsend. Ruby smirked and turned around, allowing a great vantage point as she walked back to the counter. Now that was a girl.

As soon as the coffee was drained, there was a muffled buzzing. _Son of a…not again. My shift just ended!_ Sighing, the unfortunate individual got up to go back to work.

While there though, the resident with a now ruined evening figured checking the box wouldn't be amiss. Opening the top showed a letter shoved hastily into the bottom. Whoever left it must have been in a hurry, or getting it over with before changing their mind. This could be good.

Curiously, the letter was unfolded by the lucky finder. The paper was slightly crumpled and folded crookedly. The writing inside was equally messy, large, with the words running into one another.

_Dear Friend,_

_ I don't even know what to say. You probably won't be able to help me. Most likely no one can. You'll think I'm crazy, and you could be right. I honestly don't know anymore where the limit between sanity and insanity lies anymore. I can't sleep at night. Days are a blur. Everything I do is merely routine. My life is on autopilot. I don't put my heart into it anymore, even my job, which I loved. I got into it because I wanted to protect people, but now all I do is protect my boss. She's the other problem. At first, everything was okay, but then she started asking more and more from me. Long story short, things between us got very complicated, and I can't stand it anymore. I can't keep living a lie just to make her happy. It's like, I can't feel anything. For the longest time I thought there was something wrong with me. Even when I was with her, I just couldn't feel anything. There was just something missing. I'm completely numb inside, like I have no heart. Nothing bothers me, and that fact that nothing bothers me. I feel like nothing makes sense anymore. Something is missing, a piece to the puzzle that holds all the answers. I should be happy, but I'm not. I just feel nothing. And I want to feel something, anything. Pain, misery, anger, it's all better than this all-consuming numbness. Anyone else in my position would be happy, but I get these confusing dreams and wake up in a cold sweat, only to be told by everyone that I should forget about my dreams, that they don't mean anything, and move on. I just want one person to believe me, to tell me I'm not crazy. Even if they can't help me, I just want someone to actually listen to me and stop negating what I say. I figured if I told someone anonymously, they could help me track down some answers. I've been hunting for them by myself for a while. Maybe some help wouldn't be bad._

_ Sincerely,_

_ Heartless Hunter_

The letter's recipient was glad that the coffee had already been drunk, because otherwise, it would be flying out their nose. There was so much to take in. Clearly, this person had a lot of issues.

So, apparently, there was someone wandering around Storybrooke convinced that they couldn't feel anything, that they had no heart. Putting aside the physical impossibility of such an assertion, the receiver of this very confusing letter started combing through it to try and make sense of everything contained within.

Clearly, the letter writer was going through some sort of funk. Depression was the first answer that popped to mind. But this seemed like more than just an ordinary case of depression. This person was convinced they were crazy, which, while present in certain cases, seemed unusual here.

Who could it be? They'd mentioned a troublesome female boss, and a complicated situation arising between the two of them. _No…_

There was only one boss lady in the entire town of Storybrooke, and that was Regina Mills. If there were complications between her and this…the letter's responder could only assume guy, since Madam Mayor didn't swing that way…they were sleeping together! _Kudos, dude. You've achieved what we've all been trying to do for years. _While unethical, it was understandable. She was one of the most attractive women in town, along with several others on the "eye-candy" list of this Storybrooke dweller.

_He's banging the mayor, and he's still unhappy! How is that even possible? _ Shaking their head in dismay, the correspondent drafted a reply.

* * *

Graham walked silently out of Regina's front door. That was it. This was the last time. He couldn't keep doing it anymore. Regina would get over it. It wasn't like she couldn't have her pick of any guy in Storybrooke.

Having made this decision, he headed into Granny's to celebrate with a bear claw and a game of darts. After the third round of missing every throw, he sighed and turned around. He was still off his game. Maybe someone had answered his letter.

His venture was successful. There was his letter, with _To Heartless Hunter_ scribbled on the front in incredibly tiny, messy handwriting. Graham had to squint to read it.

_Dear Heartless,_

_ I don't even know how to answer your letter. Do you want my professional opinion, or my personal one? I'll give you both. Professionally, I say you should consult a therapist. It sounds like you're depressed, and seeing a trained professional has proven effective in the majority of such cases. Insanity is not a black and white issue, and someone like Dr. Hopper could help you determine whether or not there is something abnormal with your mental health. It's more common than you'd think. But that's not very interesting. You can do that, but here is my personal advice: try and distract yourself. Find something to occupy your time. Usually a girlfriend would be my suggestion. You want to feel something? Feel a woman's legs wrapped around your waist. That's a feeling nothing else can replace. Sorry it didn't work out for you and your boss. But congratulations. Not many people can cross Regina Mills and live to tell the tale. You must be stronger than most. Or have you not told her yet? If you haven't, keep your mouth shut for a while. From one man to another, she is not pleasant to deal with when she's angry. But you already knew that. My point is, do something that feels good. Even if it's just physical. Get yourself a nice girl, wine and dine her, and enjoy the show. Not a lot else you can do about it. Or if that doesn't float your boat, get a hobby. Find something that makes you happy. And if that means leaving Regina, I wish you the best of luck. Hopefully you'll get out okay. For the record, I don't think you're crazy, just that you're looking for something. Well, hopefully my advice helped some. Keep busy and see a therapist._

_ Sincerely,_

_ A Friend_

Graham sighed. He should have known it would be too much to expect someone to understand his problem. No amount of hobbies would change the fact that he didn't belong in this land. All the women in the world would convince him to forget about it, or that he was just depressed. This was his identity at stake! Why couldn't people understand that? How could they think that he could be distracted away from that?

He folded the reply back up and headed toward his condo. He would deal with Regina tomorrow. For now, he deserved some rest.

* * *

Graham's correspondent placed the reply and a second letter in the box. Work had finally ended. Such a grueling day had never been experienced. Pulling out a phone, a text was composed.

_Hey, sorry about last time. I know it's late, but would you mind giving me a second chance? I promise I'll make it up to you._

An excruciating wait was commenced. It seemed like an eternity passed. Finally, the phone vibrated, signaling a new text.

_Meet me at Granny's in 5._

Smiling, the person headed back into Granny's and ordered two scotch-and-sodas. It was going to be a good night.

* * *

**A/N 2:** This chapter may have seemed a bit crass. I apologize. The opinions held by Storybrooke characters may or may not coincide with mine. Although in my headcanon, everyone loves Regina like I do, on some level, even as they're terrified of her. The next chapter may get bumped up to T, depending on how far this character takes it. Writing this chapter was bittersweet. It helped me get some closure on Graham (that was NOT okay!), but somehow, I doubt he fares better in my universe. Props to **CandyApple75**, **flagurl1j**, **sudoku**, **White Belt Writer**, **nahbois68**, and **Kaishei**, who all guessed correctly. Gotta love non-linear timeline for letting us relive the Graham days one last time. I'm not sure how well I did with this character, but I tried. Context clues should be slightly helpful. See you all back here next week, if we survive the shock of a whole new Once episode!

Also, if you guys have any questions about what the characters are doing during these chapters, such as Kathryn, or the person featured here, please don't hesitate to ask. I'll PM you the answer. A lot is left implied, but could be clarified if interest is shown.

Don't forget to review!


	8. Sincerely, Clueless Casanova

**Author's Note: ** Do you guys want to know how much I love you? It's literally 20 minutes to midnight, and I should be sleeping, but instead I'm updating so you can read this sooner. This chapter was easy to write, but I didn't finish it until literally 2 minutes ago because it was such a busy week. But still, here I am, with an update, short and unedited, yet hopefully good. Sorry if it's not. It made me happy, so that's something. By the way, what did you all think of tonight's Once? I loved it, and I TOTALLY CALLED WHO BAELFIRE WAS! Sorry, got kind of excited there. Here's the chapter. Slipped some Singlebrooke and other references in there, let's see who's clever enough to catch them. Or not. It doesn't really add that much to it. Enjoy, and don't forget to review with guesses!

_Standard Disclaimer:_ I don't own Once. Who's shocked by this? No one? Good.

* * *

Work was slow today, unusual, because the place was nearly always packed. Boredom wasn't something this Storybrooke resident got to experience often, but it was awful. Sneaking a look over, the person decided it would be safe to go outside and get some fresh air.

A walk wouldn't be bad either. Stopping by the box in front of Granny's, the top was opened to reveal a letter shoved hastily into the box's bottom. Wondering who could have left it, the curious citizen took it out and unfolded it.

The handwriting was awful. It was tiny, and cramped, and the reader had to squint to make out the words, and those words made their blood boil.

_Dear Friend,_

_ Okay, so I write a letter, and someone has to answer it, right? Well, here's my letter; I'll be waiting for the answer. I consider myself a good man. I'm intelligent, successful, witty, have a great job, the definition of a good catch. So why can't I get a woman? Seriously, I'm not even that picky. Blonde, brunette, redhead, thin, curvy, tall, short, whatever, I'll date them all, as long as they're hot. And I have, what up. Last night, I went on a date with this woman, a real babe, cute in that shy kind of way, you know, and I thought it went well, and, well…the evidence later that night seemed to suggest it went well, but I ran into her today, and she ran from me like her life depended on it. What happened? I did everything right: I took her somewhere nice, we went back to my place, listened to some Sting, real romantic stuff right there. And oh yeah, what happened afterwards was great too. Fantastic, even. But then, she just bolted the next morning, like she never wanted to see me again. I even sent her flowers, because she did such a good job. And now, I think every female in this town is avoiding me. What am I doing wrong? Why is it that I love the ladies, but the ladies don't love me?_

_ Sincerely,_

_ Clueless Casanova_

Was this for real? Was he actually asking why women fled from him? Oh yes, the letter's finder knew exactly who wrote the letter. He would get what's coming to him. A letter with some teeth to it, to force him to think a little about what he was actually doing.

* * *

Whale went back to the box to check and see if someone had responded. Thankfully, today he only had to work one shift. Apparently everyone that wanted to get injured had done so yesterday, and so, he could go home before the sun set.

His letter had indeed been returned in the box. He stopped by Granny's to get a cup of coffee to go before heading home and seeing what his responder had said.

Settling in with his coffee at his kitchen table, he unfolded the letter. The response was written in large, smooth loops, the black ink glistening neatly across the page. Yet, it gave off the impression of being written quickly. As he read, he saw that the angry words juxtaposed with the beauty of their appearance.

_Dear Clueless,_

_ Are you serious? No, are you actually serious right now? Clueless is right. And you wonder why you can't keep a girl. Here's a hint: girls don't like being treated like objects. You can't just judge them based on their appearance. I've seen you in action, Romeo. It's a miracle you could even get someone to come home with you. You're disgusting. You want someone to love you? Love them, for them. Don't just go after someone based on their appearance. Appearances can be deceiving. Seriously, the way you treat girls sickens me. Everyone can see it. I have absolutely no respect for you, because I can see that you don't have any for me. Don't even try to deny it. I can see you staring at my ass from the other side of town. Wipe that drool off your chin there, buddy. By now, you must have figured out who it is, although to be fair, you ogle every girl in town, so I'll say it one more time, to be clear. Girls are not objects. They should not be objectified. You pervert. The next time some poor unfortunate girl decides to go out with you, and power to her for being so brave, don't make any moves on her. Just have dinner with her or whatever, then walk her home. And whatever you do, be a perfect gentleman. No checking out other girls, no staring down her shirt, just look into her eyes and pay attention to the conversation. The last time I saw you on a date, it crashed and burned harder than the Hindenburg. That poor girl did nothing to deserve such awful treatment. If you can show them that you've changed, maybe girls will give you a chance. It'll take a while to fix the damage you've done, but if you're consistent, they'll notice and start giving you the time of day. Who knows, maybe even Mary Margaret will give you a shot. That's right, I know about that. How could you do that to poor, innocent Mary Margaret? She had no idea what she was getting herself into. Anyways, just think about what I said. It could really help you and bring you from clueless to captivating. Here's hoping you change, for the good of the town._

_ Sincerely, _

_ A Friend_

Whale sat there, with his mouth gaping. So that was the secret! Being nice to girls, listening, looking into their eyes instead of other places. It didn't seem too difficult. Well, the last one did, but he could try. Maybe his mystery responder had a point there. And she even said he could have another shot with Mary Margaret. Man, had he screwed up big time! He'd call her tomorrow to apologize, along with a bouquet and some chocolates. If he played it right, maybe he could get away without a slap to the face.

* * *

Meanwhile, Whale's correspondent placed a second letter into the box, then turned around and went back to work.

* * *

**A/N 2:** So, what did you all think? Was it completely awful? Glad quite a few of you got it last chapter: ** 6**, **White Belt Writer** (who even got the identity of the text recipient correct!), **sudoku**, **CandyApple75**, and **Kaishei**.

**sudoku:** I'm glad you thought it was good advice. I tried not to make him a horrible doctor, since he is clearly still employed for a reason, but he is a bit of a cad. The text was to Mary Margaret, as you have surely figured out from the above. And the letters in this fic will be season 1 only, so Manhattan will have no bearing on them.

**CandyApple75:** Everything you said about Graham, I agree with. It was very upsetting, and I cried. As to Whale, I've always imagined him as being Once's answer to HIMYM's Barney Stinson, except less smooth and with less class, so that's how I portrayed him. Glad it was fairly easy to guess.

Hopefully this week's chapter won't be too difficult to guess. It seems easy to me, but what do I know, right? Please review with guesses, so I know that staying up to midnight was worth it! See you all next week!


	9. Sincerely, Wannabe Wanderer

**Author's Note:** Guys. We need to have a little talk. The review rate's not cutting it. Only 3 reviews last chapter. And it was one of my favorite chapters too. If the review rate doesn't improve this chapter, I'll be holding the next one hostage until I see a number that I like. I know, I'm partly responsible for posting ridiculously late, and y'all are busy, but take 30 seconds to say "love it"/ "hate it". Doesn't always have to be with a guess. Guilt trip out of the way, this week's chapter was fun to write. I know I always say that, but somehow, this week's chapter was special. Fluffy feels ahead. It's hard to stay in character sometimes, but this week was easy, after getting started.

**sudoku:** Aha, yup, I've seen his family tree too. It's hysterical. I've been saying Once was a Spanish soap for a while now, and last week's episode confirmed it. Let the festivities begin!

_Standard Disclaimer:_ If I owned Once, it would be nominated for every Oscar category, even though it's not a movie. Especially Best Supporting Actress (Lana Parrilla). And it would air every week, with an even more convoluted family tree. Message me if you want to know my theories!

*This chapter takes place in the "Red-Handed" era*

* * *

What a busy day. So many customers had never come in at once, not so far as memory served. The fifteen minute lunch break was a welcome reprieve from this chaos.

After a quick meal, this person decided it would be a good idea to check the box outside Granny's for a letter. Usually, this resident wasn't hesitant to jump right into the action, but something told them that it would be better to hang back for a bit. Maybe now would be a good time to see what had been happening with this box.

Carefully, the box was opened and checked for a letter. Jackpot. A folded piece of paper was placed gently into the bottom of the box. The finder pulled it out and took it back inside to peruse during a spare moment. Those were hard to come by that day.

Finally, a brief respite was found during the afternoon lull, and the letter's recipient was able to take a look at the letter. Its handwriting was neat, looped cursive, the letters flowing quickly and fluidly from one to the next. It was painfully familiar. The receiver had only seen it every day for the past…well, as far back as memory stretched.

Looking past the familiarity of the handwriting, the recipient, who had an acute awareness by now of who had sent the letter, wondered what on earth she would be asking advice about. A hunch was formed about that as well, one that was confirmed by the contents of the letter.

_Dear Friend,_

_ I have this dilemma. Nobody will listen to me when I talk to them in person; they just don't take me seriously. So, I'm hoping whoever finds this letter will give me that respect. Well, here it is. I'm a waitress. I've been one as long as I can remember, and don't get me wrong, it's a decent job. It's just that I have bigger dreams in life. I don't mean to be ungrateful, but my boss can be a bit demanding. I came into work late twice in the last couple weeks, and she blew up on me. I was having car trouble! The engine wouldn't start! Anyway, that's not the point. She treats me like I'm a little kid, and she would never admit it, but I know she doesn't trust me. She's always breathing down my back, and now she started to pile even more on me. I can't handle all that! She never even asked me what I wanted! I love her and all, but it wasn't exactly my dream to be a waitress in this rinky-dink town for the rest of my life. I wanted to go to Boston, try my luck in the big city, but no, I had to stay here in the middle of nowhere instead. Fine. I can swallow my pride for a little while and stay, but when people come and tell me about the wonders that await me outside the town line, it's hard to stay complacent. Did you know that there are these little monkeys called lemurs? Yeah, they live in Nepal, in the mountains, where they have prayer temples, and they have these huge eyes that reflect light. Cool, huh? But none of that in Storybrooke. Nope. Our wonders consist of a drunken Leroy belting "We Are the Champions" on karaoke night. I feel like I can't breathe here anymore. This place is stifling, and I need to get out, but I don't want to hurt my boss. What should I do?_

_ Sincerely,_

_ Wannabe Wanderer_

The reader sighed. Of course that's what it was. She really didn't get it at all, did she? That girl was more self-absorbed than she could afford to be. Not with things the way they were now.

Pulling a pen out of the apron pocket, the responder began writing the reply. Hopefully that would set the girl straight. Otherwise, the person had no idea what to do that would get through to her anymore.

* * *

Ruby had never been so exhausted in her life. Everyone was at Granny's today, and that did mean literally everyone. Did no one in this town remember how to cook anymore? Not that she was complaining too much; the tips she earned did pay for her awesome navel ring that she would now be hiding from Granny. Still, it would look so sick at the pool, in her new bikini! That would be hidden from Granny as well. She already thought Ruby was loose enough.

Finally, her dinner break rolled around, and she scarfed down a burger, washing it down with some iced tea. Letting out a sigh of relief, she went outside for some fresh air, and to check the box for an answer to her letter. She hoped that whoever found it wouldn't take it the wrong way, but she couldn't know for sure. The whole issue was so conflicting. At the same time, she loved her Granny, but she couldn't stand to be holed up in Storybrooke any longer.

Opening the box, she saw her letter tucked into the bottom. Thin, spidery script spelled out _To Wannabe Wanderer_ on the front. The handwriting seemed old-fashioned, but nevertheless formidable.

_Dear Wannabe,_

_ Quick word of advice. Don't badmouth your boss, not even in an anonymous letter. You never know who will come across it. But if she really is as bad as you say she is, then listen up. There are two sides to every story. Have you asked her for hers? I'm sure the response will surprise you. The reason you are getting extra responsibilities might not be punishment, but reward. It could be that she thinks that you're finally ready to take on a little extra, and help out some more. That should be an honor, not a burden. Maybe she wants to see if you're ready to move up in your job. Think of it as a promotion. It's proof that, contrary to your belief, she does trust you. As for the being treated like a little kid, the best way to make her stop that is to show her that you're not a little kid anymore. You're not going to do that by going out and partying every night and then showing up late to work in the morning. If you're having car troubles, you get it fixed, and don't complain about it. Show up on time, dressed appropriately, and ready to work, without grumbling about your duties. Then, she'll see you as the adult you are. Acting professionally is the best way to show her you're a serious adult and not a silly teenager. Finally, in regards to traveling, have you ever considered her reason behind this decision? Sometimes things aren't about depriving you of opportunities. The world doesn't revolve around Ruby. Perhaps it was better for her that you stay nearby in Storybrooke. Maybe she's afraid to admit it, even to herself, but you mean a lot more to her than you know. So does your help around the diner. And it could be better for you too. Imagine, a small-town girl going to the big city for the first time in her life. You would be taken advantage of by every con artist down the Eastern Seaboard. We might not have lemurs here in Storybrooke, but we also have no crime, no dangers, and a helping hand around every corner. Stay close to those who love you, Ruby. You never know how much you'll miss them until they're gone._

_ Sincerely, _

_ A Friend_

Ruby finished reading the response with tears in her eyes. Wow. She'd never considered it that way. All she thought about was her own selfish desires. Maybe the letter writer, and she had a sneaking suspicion as to who it was, was right. Maybe she should think of others too.

Sighing, she folded the letter back up and headed into the diner. Her break had ended anyway. After the diner closed, she would talk to Granny. They could come to an answer together.

* * *

Ruby's responder smiled while watching the girl reenter the diner with a more somber demeanor. Putting their own letter into the box, the person followed Ruby back into the diner. There was hope for her yet.

* * *

**A/N 2: **Yes, my version of Ruby has a navel ring. What? Like we all weren't thinking it. Hopefully this chapter makes up for yet another Once-less week. Who do you guys want to win at the Oscars? I want Les Mis and Silver Linings Playbook to win big. I won't make any predictions, because I'll most likely be proven wrong in the next few hours, but I can hope, right? I highly recommend both to everyone, but the second is R, so it's not for the kiddies. Congratulations to **White Belt Writer**, **sudoku**, and **CandyApple75** for being the only ones to review...er, guess correctly last chapter.

**White Belt Writer**: I'm glad you enjoyed Ruby's rant. Guy had it coming. You can't just treat girls like that and expect to get away with it.

**CandyApple75**: I didn't like him in season 1 either. He was kind of a complete jerk. And I definitely would not have put him with Ruby. But things change. Now, I ship Frankenwolf (since this is apparently the ship name). Also, am I the last one to find out about Black Wolf? Which seriously makes no sense to me, but whatever. Point is, a lot of ships don't seem to make sense earlier on because characters need to grow and develop before they can be good together. Like Barney/Robin from HIMYM, or my precious SwanQueen from this fandom. They were no good together at the beginning, but now, they work.

Have a lovely Oscar Sunday everyone, and thank you for your continued support. Don't forget to review, review, review, with those guesses and comments! I'll see you back here next week!


	10. Sincerely, Grieving Grandmother

**Author's Note:** So apparently, all it took was some low-level extortion to get those reviews flowing! I have never had so many reviews on one chapter before! I would hate to have to do that again, so don't make me. But thank you all, from the bottom of my heart. I knew this story had gathered a small loyal following, but I never realized how much you liked it! I really needed the encouragement this week, so you guys are awesome, and treat yourselves to your favorite episode of Once for me, since I can't give you all hugs. Don't fret, I will update weekly until it's finished! Which won't be for a little while, if my calculations are correct. That's right, I actually have a master plan for this story, complete with flowchart! And yes, Mr. Gold is included in this flowchart, and has been, since the story's inception, so never fear, he will be getting a chapter. But I shan't say when!

This chapter is even angstier than last week's. If this bothers you, just bear with me for one more week, and we'll be back to lighter territory next week!

**sudoku:** Good summary of the characters that have not gotten stories. You only missed one season 1 character that could have been considered. However, not all of those listed will be getting chapters, for reasons that I will be happy to explain if asked.

**LacieAlice:** Thank you for reviewing. Yes, last week's letter happened during 1x15. If you notice, I occasionally put up the episode names, when relevant. ;)

**karjens44:** Good for you for noticing that Regina hasn't responded to anyone yet. She will. Eventually. Stay tuned!

**I took massive liberties with a character's cursed backstory in this chapter. I apologize deeply if it is not to your liking, or if you find it offensive, for any reason, but it is the way it is. No way to change it now. Please keep any flames to a minimum.

_Standard Disclaimer_: I do not own Once Upon a Time. On to the chapter!

* * *

Man, what a day. There had been so many tasks to complete today. Exhausted, this citizen stepped into Granny's hoping for some quick relief. With the customary tumbler full of amber liquid in hand, the person savored the drink, relishing the break from the day's frenzy. Finally, as the last drop was drained from the glass, the tired worker was forced to admit that there was work to be finished. While exiting Granny's, the advice box caught their eye, gleaming in the sunlight.

Curious, the unwilling worker went over to check what was inside, grateful for yet another excuse to shirk the never-ending responsibilities. The top was opened to reveal a single folded sheet of paper pressed into the bottom of the box. A letter. Curious, the finder pulled the letter out of the box and stored it inside a worn jacket. It would be saved for a break later on in the day. For now, there was work to be done.

At last, the workday ended. Relieved and exhausted, the laborer headed home, ready to collapse into bed, before remembering the letter still nestled away inside the jacket. Pulling it out, the letter was unfolded roughly to show thin, narrow script, creeping across the page like a spider-web. It had an old fashioned quality to it, but also an unspoken strength. Wondering who on earth could have handwriting with such contrasting traits, the recipient began to read the letter, thinking that maybe its contents could hold a clue.

_Dear Friend,_

_ I have tried to solve this on my own. Everything I knew, I tried, in the hopes that it would help. Believe me, I would not be writing this if I had not already done everything in my own power to solve this issue, but nothing helped. I am at wit's end. This is my last resort. If this letter doesn't solve it, nothing will. There will be nowhere else to turn. Some history would be nice. I am having trouble with my granddaughter. Here's the problem. When she was barely old enough to know of the world around her, her parents died in a car crash. She doesn't remember them at all. I, on the other hand, am haunted by the memory every moment of every day. Death is never pleasant, but when your child goes before you, it is particularly painful. After her parents passed, it fell to me, as the closest remaining relative, to care for the girl. Even if it weren't so, I would have taken her in a heartbeat. She was such a lovely child, with her dark curls framing a creamy face, with inquisitive blue eyes staring up at you in wonder. I remember, she would always ask the most difficult questions. Even then, she was willful, testing my boundaries and never taking my reasons at face value. Back then, I indulged her. The girl had lost her parents, after all. She would never know them, and my love was all she would get. I let her play longer than she should, have an extra cookie here and there, wander around outside in the forest as it was growing dark. It was impossible to say no to her pout. But, after a while, she picked up on this, and learned to manipulate it. When she wanted something that I would normally have said no to, she would tug her lips into a pout and fix me with those huge puppy eyes of hers. Of course, I would then allow it. Looking back, I may have been too soft with her as a child, which makes the situation now even more difficult. Now, I have no control over her whatsoever. She goes out whenever she wants, comes back in the early hours of the morning, with absolutely no regard for anyone but herself. When she does show up for work, she is sloppy, dressed like a drag queen during Fleet Week, and unreliable. I asked her to pick up a few extra shifts during the week because these old bones aren't what they used to be, but that was met with many protests about how I'm infringing on her life and her freedom. If she had her way, she would be partying it up in Boston right now, leaving me all alone. She's all I have left in this world, and I couldn't bear to lose her as well. I see the way she looks at me. She despises me; she thinks I am too harsh with her. If she knew what had happened, she would understand, but I don't have the heart to tell her. I have to be harsh with her, otherwise she won't listen. I love her desperately, and all I ask is for the same in return. What should I do?_

_ Sincerely,_

_ Grieving Grandmother_

Yikes. This family had major issues. Laying the letter out on the table, its reader pulled a pencil out from a drawer and began writing a reply. Honestly, the receiver didn't know how to help, but one thing was known for sure: Ruby deserved a break.

* * *

Granny finally set down her pen, having finished doing the books for the day. She was wiped out and ready to go home. Having set everything in order, she left the diner, locking up on her way out, and checked the box to see if anyone had found her letter and responded. Bingo. Her letter was back in the bottom of the box, with _To Grieving Grandmother_ written on the outside in rough, penciled print.

She decided to wait until she got home to open the letter. Having settled in at her kitchen table, she looked around to make sure Ruby wasn't home. Of course she wasn't. She was off gallivanting with Ashley, or Billy, or some other member of Storybrooke's wayward youth. Sighing, partially in relief, partially in exasperation, she unfolded the response, eager to see what it said.

_Dear Grieving,_

_ First of all, I'm sorry for your loss. Losing a child to such an untimely death can't be easy, as you said. It has to suck having to deal with that. But, you have to remember that Ruby is not responsible for any of this. She didn't choose to have this happen, and she sure didn't choose to be coddled as a child. I understand that you may have felt guilty about her parents' passing, but you have to lay off of the poor girl, sister! She was just reacting to what she was taught. It'll take her some time to realize that she can't get away with acting like that anymore. Instead of being, as you yourself admitted, harsh with her, try easing up on her, bit by bit. Tell her the things you told me. She's a big girl; she can stand to hear it now. Maybe if you think the details are too much, then you could skim over those, but she is a full-fledged adult. She's not five years old anymore. As cute as her puppy eyes may be, let her know that things are different now, before you start tightening her leash, so to speak. Otherwise, she'll think it's coming out of nowhere and won't understand, like the way it is now. Talk to her and tell her how much you love her. Even if she is fully aware of this fact, it's still nice to hear. But in the meantime, be a little more understanding with her. Try to see things her way. She's been allowed to do whatever she wanted her whole life, and now you're telling her no. It must be a shock for her. Cut back on the indulgences little by little, and give the girl a break!_

_ Sincerely,_

_ A Friend_

Granny finished reading the reply, and placed it down with a quiet sigh. Of course that's what it was. How could she expect Ruby to understand something that she'd never seen? She was hoping that her reply could nudge her in the right direction, but now she saw that she would have to gather her nerves and go for a more direct approach. Maybe telling her flat out would help both of them. It would help Ruby see, and get some of the weight off of her as well. She turned the coffee pot on and glanced at the clock. Eleven. After pouring a cup, she settled in and commenced her wait for Ruby to return. They needed to have a talk.

Meanwhile, Granny's correspondent wiped grease off of calloused hands and placed a second letter in the box before whistling all the way home.

* * *

**A/N 2:** So, I'm really unsure of how I handled the response to Granny's letter. Glad you all enjoyed last week's chapter, but I needed to give her a good reason for acting as she did. I think it's pretty difficult to guess this week's respondent, but hopefully some of you will be clever enough to get it! Congratulations to **nahbois68**, **sudoku**, **janeaustenite6**, **Linzerj**, **White Belt Writer**, **karjens44** (hopefully this chapter shows a little bit of why she's harsh!), **flagurl1j**, **OliviaBe**, and **Kaishei**.

Now, if you all don't mind, I'm off to watch this week's new episode, which I have been told is awesome! Review, review, review until the button breaks! See you all next week!


	11. Sincerely, Hopeful Hero

**Author's Note:**I'm back! And I officially no longer have any feels left because ugh, how could you do that, Snow? I'll try not to spoil it for those who didn't watch, but the whole episode was quite tragic and very well done. This chapter has been planned long before I even knew of this episode, but the general lightness of it (at least compared to how dark last week's chapter was) contrasts nicely with the misery in this week's episode of Once. Not such a happy Once Sunday after all.

Thank you all once again for reading, following, favoriting, and most of all, reviewing! Every email in my inbox about this story is like a little burst of happiness. You all get hugs. You need them after this week's episode.

_Standard Disclaimer:_ I do not own the show, and after tonight's episode, I no longer want to.

*This chapter takes place during the "Dreamy" era*

* * *

Everything seemed to be in order. After checking the entire room once more, this Storybrooke dweller glided out toward Granny's for a well-deserved break.

The chamomile tea at Granny's still tasted heavenly. Having finished the last calming dregs from the mug, it was set down gently and the bill paid with a smile before exiting the diner. The person was about to go back and get some last minute details with the rent straightened out when a ray of sunlight hit the box, illuminating it.

Squinting in the brightness, the resident opened the top, wondering if anything would be found inside. Curious stories were floating around town, widespread by now, about various personal problems that people had, some which were serious enough to damage the reputations of several upstanding citizens. Of course, this resident knew better than to believe the frivolity of gossip, whose information was more often than not entirely insubstantial, and it was disappointing that so many stooped low enough to participate in such vanity. At the same time, this person hoped that the rumors really were unfounded, because the idea of such honorable people behaving in such an immoral manner was abhorrent. The person standing at the box only hoped they would know better.

A letter was shoved roughly into the bottom of the box. Delicately, the finder pulled it out and went somewhere more private in order to read its message.

Sitting back down at the desk, the letter was smoothed out from its uneven crease and its appearance taken in. The letters were gruff, printed in the unmistakable gray lead of a pencil, scattering crookedly across the page. Their content evidenced the same disorganization.

_Dear Friend,_

_ What a lie. I don't have any friends here. I know no one can stand me in this town. Well, that's not completely true. And that's part of the problem. So I met this girl. Yeah, yeah, I know, that doesn't sound like a problem. It isn't. She's so beautiful, and kind, and gentle, and she makes me feel like I can do something important. She said I was her hero. Her hero! No one's ever said anything like that to me. Anyway, we really hit it off; we got to talking, and big shock, I became really interested in her. The good thing is, I think she's interested in me too. Her smile is really sweet when she sees me, and I'm a lot less grumpy when she's around. Sounds perfect, right? That would make everyone happier, not that I care about the rest of them. Now the bad thing is, we can't be together. You see, she's kind of a nun. Like, celibate for life, can't date, that whole deal. But I can't stay away from her, and I'd be lying if I said it would be easy for her too. I've worked too hard to let her slip away. I did things that were questionable (some might say crazy) just to get her attention, and I won't let that go to waste. This is wrong; so sue me. I don't really care. I just get the feeling that we're meant to be together, like this is "true love", or she's "the one", or whatever other stupid name they have for it. It doesn't even come near to the truth. Anyway, I know that you probably don't care about the lovesick ranting of a poor man who's hopelessly head over heels, but back me up here. At least say it would be alright if I give it a shot with her? The whole nun thing kinda gets in the way, but we just won't tell her boss. The woman's a great nun, but man is she strict with her inferiors! So can I just assume that you're going to say it's okay for me to see her? I'm going to go with yes, because this is driving me crazy!_

_ Sincerely,_

_ Hopeful Hero_

Oh no. This would not do. This simply would not do. The reader gasped with horror. How dare he? Didn't he know about the nuns? Didn't he respect their vows? And which nun was it that he loved…this would all need to be investigated. He would simply have to be set straight, with a firm hand. It would be painful for a while, but he would get over it eventually.

Rummaging around the drawer, the person pulled out an elegant pen, and began writing a firm, yet not unkind, reply.

* * *

Leroy was ready to call it a day. He was exhausted. Before he went home to pass out though, he figured he might as well get some liquid dinner at Granny's. Her whiskey was better than any other he'd tasted.

On the way, he decided to check the box on a whim. Something told him he'd see his letter back in the box, and indeed, there it was, neatly folded and tucked precisely into the bottom of the box. All of the wrinkles had been painstakingly smoothed out, and the sheet was as crisp as when he tore it off the legal pad. The front of it had _To Hopeful Hero_ written on it in dainty handwriting that appeared very prim and proper. It gave him a bad feeling, and his bad feelings were rarely wrong. He decided to go into Granny's and order his drink before proceeding any further.

Whiskey in hand, he took a gulp before opening up the letter. The alcohol would give him the courage he'd need to read it. He wondered what his mystery correspondent would have to say about his dilemma. Taking a deep breath, he finally began reading the response.

_Dear Hopeful,_

_ I never wish to be the one to crush someone's hopes, especially not when it comes to love. It is a precious and noble gift that most are not lucky enough to find. However, I must do so in your case. I'm sorry, but you cannot be with the one you love. If what you say is true and she indeed is a nun, then she has made her decision. She has already sworn her heart's loyalty elsewhere, and she cannot be with you. You should not feel discouraged. The one you love is an honorable woman, and she will be rewarded for her sacrifices, but not in this life. Earthly pleasures are fleeting, but the treasure she is storing up is eternal. Would you really be so selfish as to deprive her of such joy? You should be happy that she has made such a holy vow, and should perhaps consider changing your own path as well. If the only way you can gain the attention of a woman is by, as you say, questionable methods, then you should rethink your decisions. For a start, think of someone other than yourself. Selfless kindness is a virtue. If this seems overly difficult, begin with your love. Let her go. Do not lead her into temptation to break her most sacred vow. It does not seem very loving to lead the object of your affection into temptation. Allow her to follow her spiritual call, and perhaps her devotion will cause a change in you as well. Pursuing this romance will only end badly for both of you, and the punishment will not be meted out solely on this earth. It will be for all of eternity. But ending this misguided liaison will lead to only good for the both of you. It is not easy to let love go, but sometimes, it must be done, for the good of all. _

_ Sincerely,_

_ A Friend_

As he finished reading, Leroy drank the rest of his whiskey in one chug, savoring the burn. It was nothing compared to the ache in his heart. Who did his respondent think they were, telling him whom he can or can't love? What the hell did they understand about the intricate workings of the heart? Leroy did not enjoy being spoken down to by some uppity person who thought they knew him better than he did himself. He ordered another whiskey and swallowed it in one shot. Pity, it was great whiskey, and it deserved to be relished, but he needed to dull the pain. Tomorrow, he would find Astrid and show her the letter. Tonight, he would be numb.

* * *

Leroy's responder smiled grimly before placing a letter in the box. It was better for him this way. He would have had to face it eventually. Then, turning back, the person walked home.

* * *

**A/N 2:** Poor Leroy. Who do you all think his correspondent is? It seems pretty obvious to me, but then again, I wrote it, so what do I know, right? Congratulations to **White Belt Writer**, **CandyApple75, The Couchster, Kennedy Leigh Morgan, sudoku, janeaustenite6, flagurl1j, **and **Kaishei**, who all guessed correctly last week. And I'm glad you all enjoyed last week's chapter. Yes, I know, the responder is harsh with Leroy, but once you figure out who it is, all will be clear. Don't forget to keep on reviewing! Reviews make me happy, and I tend to write happier chapters when I'm in a better mood. See you all again next Sunday! Until then, keep calm and carry on, because next Sunday is Welcome to Storybrooke!


	12. Sincerely, Baffled Boss

**Author's Note:**Happy Once Sunday! Hooray for an episode that didn't make me sad, and the return of everyone's favorite sheriff! Welcome to any new readers, and hello again for all my faithful readers. Thank you all once again for reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing. It really makes writing this story worth it. You brighten my day with your reviews.

Now, for everyone suggesting whom I should write about next: The order of the letters is set in stone. The character a lot of you are suggesting will make an appearance, but I can't just bump him up, because it'll ruin the flow of the story. Patience, my dears, is a virtue. He will get a chapter, don't you worry.

_Standard Disclaimer:_ I don't own Once Upon a Time. And action!

*This chapter takes place in the "Dreamy" era*

* * *

The day seemed to drag on forever. So much needed to be finished still and time was running short. It had not been a good morning. Everything that could go wrong did. The check for the rent bounced, putting everyone's job in peril. It would only be a couple days before Mr. Gold would come breathing down their necks for the money. He hated them all anyway. The location for the fair still needed to be secured, and although it would be held in the same place as every year, there had been problems with the paperwork and the bureaucratic aspect of it needed to be taken care of. To top it all off, this resident's boss seemed intent on blaming this poor employee for all the mishaps, even though they were all out of their control.

Frazzled, the exhausted worker decided to go to Granny's and check on the food for the fair. Granny's had catered the event every year, but it was always worth asking again, and truthfully, the person could just use the break. A cup of warm coffee would be enough to lift their spirits.

As the person walked by the box, a scrap of paper flapped from the box. The wind must have picked it up. Curious, the box was opened to reveal a letter tucked neatly inside, the edge of it caught on the rim.

_I should probably go check on the food…but it can wait a few minutes. It won't hurt anyone if I read the letter._ And with that rationalization, the letter's finder opened the letter. The handwriting was exquisite, daintily scripted on the page. Its familiarity was astounding. The reader had only seen it daily for the past…well, as far back as memory served. A bad feeling nagged the reader as the words were taken in.

_Dear Friend,_

_I have a problem. I care about my employees very much, but lately, I've had problems with them. One of them in particular has been particularly absentminded lately. She has been forgetting to do the most elementary tasks, and the ones she does complete, she does in an unsatisfactory manner. For instance, she accidentally spent money that we didn't have in the bank, and the check for the rent ended up bouncing. Do you know how disastrous that could be?_ _We could lose our building!_ _Mr. Gold isn't too keen on us as it is; this will do nothing to curry his favor. I've had to be harsh with the girl, as much as it pains me. We are supposed to do everything in kindness, but kindness is difficult after so many warnings. Now, I've heard rumors as to the cause of her distraction. Normally, I don't believe in rumors. They are a vile habit created to entertain vacuous people with the folly of others. Laughing at the fool makes you no better than him, in my opinion. Not to mention how many of the stories floating around are unfounded. But I can't help but wonder if the one concerning my employee is true. You see, the story goes that she has begun an illicit relationship with another upstanding citizen of this town. That simply cannot be true. It would go against her contract. When she began her employ here, she agreed that romantic relationships were not to be part of her life. If she went back on this vow, the punishment she would receive would not stem only from me. I can't just approach her. She would ask how I know, and ultimately, it is her personal business. But when personal business infringes on how I run my business, then I need to step in and make sure everything is running smoothly. How should I handle this? _

_Sincerely,_

_Baffled Boss_

Oh no. This was meant for someone else. No. How could she? The reader was wounded by the words written on that page. Sighing, the unfortunate correspondent pulled out a pen and began composing a reply.

* * *

Mother Superior was having the most awful day. The rent had bounced, the location for the fair still hadn't been secured, and the catering wasn't confirmed. Was there anything more that could go wrong? She had trusted her most reliable nun to do the job properly, but everything had been ruined. How was this possible?

The girl still wasn't back. Sighing, Mother Superior went to Granny's to see if she was still there. That was the last place she had been sent, and knowing her, she simply forgot to return back to the convent.

As she walked toward the entrance at Granny's, she saw the box standing faithfully on the telephone pole in front of the establishment. Maybe someone had answered her letter.

She opened the top slowly and saw two letters placed in the bottom. She pulled out the top one, which had _To Baffled Boss_ written in small, graceful cursive looping delicately across the front. It was beautiful handwriting, lovely as a lily. Its message was no less sweet.

_Dear Baffled,_

_I am truly sorry that you are having trouble with your employee. You sound like a wonderful boss. But, try to see it from her eyes. Perhaps she has a very good reason for acting as she is. Maybe she has personal trouble, problems that she is going through at the moment. Or maybe, she is just having an off day. These things happen. Nobody is perfect, at least not one who is living on this earth. Perfection can only be found in heaven above. That being said, try being more lenient with the girl. In my profession, we are taught to do everything in loving kindness. It sounds like your profession is similar in this regard. Kindness will always be repaid in kind, and patience, the most noble of virtues, will certainly be rewarded, in the next life, if not in this one. As for this woman's romantic history, you said it yourself. It is none of your business. Sometimes, there are more important things than rules. Even those created with the best of intentions do not always apply. Love is a special and prized treasure, one that we spend our entire lives striving toward. We are taught to love everyone and treat them as ourselves. Why then, should romantic love be excluded from this definition? I understand that she made a promise to you, but circumstances change. Maybe she has found something deeper, and it is time for her to move on. My advice is not to interfere in her life. It can only end badly, and ultimately, what she does is her decision. If this will incur wrath, all you can do is ensure that it will not be yours. Wrath is a vice. As for that of any other, it is out of your control. Treat her as you would like to be treated if in her situation. Have understanding and mercy with her. I sincerely hope that this misunderstanding will be cleared up easily._

_Sincerely,_

_A Friend_

Mother Superior was outraged. How dare someone tell her how to run her convent? It was hers to run as she pleased. She had been named Mother Superior for a reason. Did no one have respect for the faith anymore?

Fuming, she reread the letter. The part about kindness struck her heart. The writer had a point. Loving kindness was one of the main guidelines she was to follow as a nun. She supposed the same should apply to her inferiors. The girl would not be reprimanded, for now. She would be supervised, and if her performance stayed as inadequate as it had been recently, then she would be chastised benevolently, for the good of the convent. More important things than rules, really! The letter writer obviously didn't realize that the good of the many outweighed the good of one.

* * *

The responder hoped the letter would be taken the right way. No ill will was meant by it. The response, along with a new letter, was placed in the box, which was closed with a clink. Now, to see about the catering.

* * *

**A/N 2:** Hope you guys liked the chapter! Don't know if I did the advice justice, although to be fair, the Golden Rule is always a good guideline to follow. Lots of Mother Superior (or as one guest reviewer delightfully nicknamed her, Mother Inferior) hate last week. It made me laugh. She can be sanctimonious sometimes, but this should put her in her place...or not. Congratulations to **TheCouchster**, **Kaishei**, **janeaustenite6**, **flagurl1j**, **White Belt Writer**, and the two guests who correctly guessed last week. **sudoku**, you were on the wrong side of the rent unfortunately!

To the guest reviewer who asked if I would do a second post-curse installment: It's under consideration. This one still has a few more stories to be told, and after it's finished, I will let you all know whether I will continue it into season 2 or not. If I do, don't hold your breath for CaptainSwan. It may be mentioned, but it won't be endgame, as I don't ship it.

Thank you all once again for the support. You are all fabulous. Don't forget to review with guesses or comments, and I'll see you all back here next Sunday!


	13. Sincerely, Smitten Sister

**Author's Note:** Have I ever mentioned how much you guys make me laugh with some of your reviews? Because you do. Reading them makes me really happy. You all are pretty clever! Posting early to celebrate the fact that I finished writing this already. Tonight's episode of Once is something that doesn't interest me in the slightest, and I have no idea how it'll turn out, but have some light, fluffy fun to get you through it anyway. This one's for all the shippers of the couple detailed in the past couple chapters.

Note: I did the math, and it's supposed to be Wednesday on my timeline, but let's just say no one visited the box for a couple days, okay? Also, this chapter will be following the canon for the episode listed, except for events affected by what happened in my story already. It'll make sense when you get to it.

_Standard Disclaimer:_ I don't own Once Upon a Time. I just like to take some of the characters out of the box and play with them.

*This chapter takes place in the "Dreamy" era*

* * *

Fridays were officially the best day of the week, hands down. This Storybrooke resident ran home excitedly, shoes kicked off at the doorway, before scampering up the stairs and jumping on the bed. Oh yeah, this was what life was about!

After about an hour or so of complete relaxation, boredom set in. No one was home still, and it was getting kind of lonely. With a backpack slung over the shoulders, the person decided to head off to Granny's. It was always fun there.

Having walked the entire way to Granny's, the person slumped into a booth at Granny's. Ruby came to take the order, which ended up being more or less the usual: chocolate milk and French fries, extra crispy. Ketchup was slathered over the food as soon as it was delivered, and it was quickly devoured, making a huge mess.

Granny's always made the best food. It was almost better than…no, such thoughts were not to be entertained. She could be listening, even from work! Who knew what she could do? Still bored, this Storybrooke citizen decided to people watch for a little while, just to pass the time.

There was Leroy, nursing a drink like always. He looked glummer than ever. Mary Margaret was next to him, drink in hand, and busy in conversation with the depressed miner. They were probably making preparations for Miner's Day.

David walked in, ordering a coffee for himself and then immediately left. Interesting. Normally he'd talk to Mary Margaret. What happened?

Ruby and Granny had disappeared into the back room, probably to discuss something. The observer wondered what that could be. Storybrooke was acting really weird all of a sudden. Did this have anything to do with the new box that had been up for a couple weeks?

Intrigued, the now full customer left a couple crumpled dollar bills next to the plate to cover the bill, and went to go check the box. The person checked it almost daily, but it had always been empty. Maybe today was their lucky day.

Yes! There was a letter in the box. The finder pulled it out and held it, guarding it like buried treasure. It would be saved until home.

Finally, the lucky finder collapsed back on the bed and opened up the letter. The words looped in small, beautiful cursive, graceful like a lily.

_Dear Friend,_

_I hope that you are indeed a friend to me. They seem to be few and far between lately. Even those I thought I could trust_ _proved me wrong. You see, I'm in a romantic relationship with someone that people don't like very much. But, he makes me so happy! He's very kind, and sweet, although you couldn't see that at first glance. He's truly proof that you can't judge people by their appearance. More than once, he's been there for me when no one else was. I love him, and I think he might feel the same way. Sounds like a fairytale, right? Well, then we get to my boss. She's the problem. You see, I'm not really supposed to date. It's part of my contract, shall we say. That's why no one can find out about our relationship. It's kind of a secret. And I had no problems with such an arrangement until I met him. I can't stay away from him, no matter how hard I try. My boss has been watching me extra carefully lately. It's like she's waiting for me to mess up! With that kind of pressure, who wouldn't mess up? I know I've made some pretty big mistakes lately, but it's not because of him! I think she might know more about me and him than she lets on, and this is her way of having an excuse to dismiss me. Honestly though, I'm not mad. She's just doing what she thinks is best, and so must I. I want to keep my job, but I can't bear living without my love! What should I do?_

_Sincerely,_

_Smitten Sister_

The letter reader frowned. Who could this be? At first, the reader thought it was Mary Margaret. People weren't happy about her and David either. But everyone liked David…and as far as they knew, her job wasn't in jeopardy.

_Smitten Sister_…a nun! This was one of the nuns! Man! But which one…? Oh! Wow, this could be bad! The response had to be written right away! She had to know that she couldn't break up with Leroy!

* * *

Astrid sighed. Yet another day had dragged by. It had been two days since she dropped her letter into the box, and there was still no response. Maybe people really did hate her. Dejectedly, she left work, deciding to stop by Granny's one last time to check for her letter. If it wasn't back today, then she'd have her answer.

Opening the box, she found her letter returned. It was folded crookedly, and the front was addressed _To Smitten Sister_ in a large, untidy scribble. Eagerly, she opened the letter. She had to focus to make out some of the words in the reply.

_Dear Smitten,_

_I'm definitely your friend. Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me. And it sucks that you have to keep your relationship a secret, but you can't break up with him! He's your true love! You only get one true love per lifetime, and you can't lose them after you find them. True love is the most powerful thing in the world. You don't just give it up because someone doesn't like it! If you love him, and he loves you, that's all that matters. You two have to be together! Don't let Mother Superior keep you apart. She doesn't really know what she's doing. No one does here. But that's not my point. In the end, a job is just a job. You can find another one. This is Storybrooke. It's not like people are flooding in to take all the free jobs. Stay true to your heart and be with Leroy. Whoever doesn't like it doesn't matter. It's your life, and you should be able to be with your true love. I'm rooting for you guys. This is supposed to happen! You found each other! Don't let people tear you apart. Please. You two belong together. You said it yourself. It's like a fairytale! And once you find your happy ending, you don't let anyone else ruin it for you. Now I'm not saying to go and quit your job. That would be really dumb. But if you have to pick between your true love and your job, go with the love. There's a reason why all the stories end with the guy and the girl getting married, and not with someone getting their dream job. Love is more important than a job. You shouldn't be stifled in the convent. You have to prove Mother Superior and everyone else who might think you guys can't last wrong. I believe in you._

_Sincerely,_

_A Friend_

Astrid read over the letter with a chuckle. Her correspondent certainly had a very simplistic view of life. In reality, things were a lot more complicated than that. But Astrid thought the responder had the right idea. And it felt good to have someone believe in her. It seemed like no one did anymore.

She did love Leroy, with all her heart. That kind of love couldn't be sacrificed for a job. Fairytales weren't real, of course; they were just bedtime stories told to appease wondering children, but there had to be a reason why they all encouraged love and not careers. Love was simply more important.

Having made up her mind about what to do, Astrid folded up the letter and stuck it back in the drawer. Then, she went to go fix herself a cup of hot tea and curled up with a good book.

* * *

Astrid's replier stuck the letter into the box with a cheeky grin. Maybe she would listen to the advice. She had to believe in true love. The reply was followed by a new letter. Then, the person headed home excitedly. It was lasagna night.

* * *

**A/N 2:** So there you have it, folks. Astrid got her support, and her correspondent is clearly the biggest Astrid/Leroy shipper. Or just biggest shipper in general. I honestly couldn't have made the person's identity any clearer if I tried, so have fun guessing. I know I had a lot of fun writing, and it was nice to get out of the drama a bit. Kudos to **flagurl1j**, **White Belt Writer**, **Linzerj** (yes, you did say, and you said correctly!), **janeaustenite6** (bonus points for the Sound of Music reference!), and **sudoku**, who all guessed correctly last week. Make sure to leave your guesses in a review if you want the fabulous honor of seeing your name in the A/N next week. Other reviews are also nice to read too, like comments about the story; just saying.

Side-note: This story's drawing near to its close. How would you guys feel about an epilogue after all the letters are done?

Enjoy the rest of your Once Sunday; hopefully tonight's episode won't be too painful. See you all next week!


	14. Sincerely, Book Believer

**Author's Note:** So, what is this, the third hiatus of the season? That's insanity. The good news is, this story won't be ending before Once comes back, so you and I will have something to look forward to on Sundays. The bad news is, there's only a few more weeks of this story left. I'll save my big "thank you" speech for the end of the story, but know that we're rolling into the home stretch now. Just a few more letters to go before the epilogue that you all unanimously voted that you wanted. So, it shall be written. It may even span two weeks (and answer both your questions, **nahbois68**) depending on how I feel about it. Sometimes, current show events line up with my preplanned (since January, seriously now) story lineup, and I get excited because things work out great. You'll see what I mean after reading the chapter.

Happy Easter to all my readers who celebrate it today!

_Standard Disclaimer: _I do not own Once Upon a Time. If I did, there would be new episodes every week (not bitter about the hiatus or anything, nope).

*This chapter takes place in no specific episode, but it's near the end of season 1*

* * *

What a long day. It just seemed to drag on and on without any hope of ending. This Storybrooke resident walked into Granny's hoping a drink could prove to be a good distraction from the ongoing failure.

The entire endeavor had been a mistake and a waste of time. How many months had been spent trying to convince her? She obviously wasn't going to listen. Sighing, the person ordered a drink and took out a notebook and pen.

Maybe a different angle. Yeah; maybe the problem had been the wrong approach. But what angle would work on her? Everything that was plausible had already been attempted. The frustrated individual jotted down ideas hastily in the notebook. They'd be transferred to something more permanent later, but that contraption was too clunky to carry around town all the time. It was taking its toll on the leg.

After a while, it became obvious that nothing good was forthcoming. With the drink drained and Ruby paid, the person hobbled out of Granny's, ready to give up for the day. Tomorrow could be a fresh start.

Suddenly, the box still hanging on the telephone pole in front of the diner caught the person's eye. Intrigued, the finder stepped over and checked for a letter. There was a single folded sheet pressed into the bottom of the box. The finder took it out, thinking it might do some good to focus on someone else's dilemma for a bit. Selfishness certainly hadn't done any good so far. Upon reading the letter though, the reader had to conclude that this was perfect. It was exactly what they were looking for. The childish scrawl that lined the page held the key, and proof that this mission was not crazy.

_Dear Friend,_

_You gotta help me. No one believes me. My mom thinks I'm crazy. She doesn't actually say that, but she makes me go to Dr. Hopper every week. I think we both know what that means. But I'm not crazy. You gotta believe me, no matter how weird it sounds. Ready? This whole town is cursed. The Evil Queen cast a curse on all the fairytale characters, and now they're all trapped here in Maine and they don't remember who they are. Everyone in this town is actually a fairytale character. For example, Dr. Hopper's whole thing is listening to your conscience and not lying, because that would be giving into your dark side. Remind you of anyone? He's actually Jiminy Cricket. The rest of them are fairytale characters too. Need proof? I have a book full of all the fairytales. They're all here, in Storybrooke. They even look like their fairytale counterparts!Mary Margaret- she's Snow White. Ruby's Little Red Riding Hood. And my mom? She's the Evil Queen. She's the one who cast the curse that brought everyone here. No one believes me when I try to tell them. They all think I'm just making stuff up. But I'm not! It's all true. My real mom, Emma, she's the one who's supposed to break the curse. I tried talking to her and telling her that, but she doesn't listen. She just thinks I'm some silly little kid. Do you agree with her? Do you think I just have an overactive imagination, or whatever other name adults give to it when they don't want to say they think you're nuts? Someone needs to believe me. The time has come for the curse to break, and I can't do it alone. How do I convince people that I'm not lying?_

_Sincerely,_

_Book Believer_

The reader chuckled in amusement. This was perfect. Someone else was on the same side. The task didn't have to be done alone; it could be done with help. And who better to help than the savior's son? This was the angle they'd been looking for. As soon as the person arrived home, a response was quickly penned and returned to the box. The sooner Henry read this, the better.

* * *

Henry slung his backpack over his shoulder as he headed toward Granny's. He sighed. Today he'd tried talking to Emma again about the curse, and she'd met his efforts with the same kind of lackluster response she usually did. Sure, she never outright told him he was crazy, but he could tell that she didn't believe him. Disappointed, he went to see if anyone had responded to his letter. Maybe he was crazy, but he didn't think so. Maybe someone, somewhere, believed him.

A quick check of the box yielded his letter, addressed _To Book Believer_ in sturdy handwriting that would have been elegant if it didn't appear so stiff. Eager to read the response, Henry rushed home and plopped himself on his bed before unfolding the letter.

_Dear Believer,_

_I don't think you're crazy, or a silly little kid. I'm a believer too. I've actually come across your book once or twice in my life myself. Don't let any of the rest of them get you down. The curse is real; far more real than anything else they remember. You're the one who's right, not them. So don't give up, and don't stop believing. They'll learn the truth someday. That being said, you can't force anyone to believe you. They have to see it for themselves. Your youth made it easier for you to believe, because you are more open to new ideas. It'll be harder for them, especially for your mom. She'll have the hardest time believing, because her part in breaking the curse is so big. Trust me; you're not the only one trying to convince her. I have my own reasons to persuade her to believe. Some might say that sounds selfish, but this is the first thing I've done in a while that wasn't actually selfish. But I'm going to level with you now, so listen. Neither one of us has had much success convincing her on our own. Maybe we should team up. Two heads are better than one, and with your youthful enthusiasm and my greater experience, we could make this work out. I'd tell you more in the letter, but the rest of the information is probably not safe to write on paper, in case someone else finds it. It could be disastrous if it falls in the wrong hands, like your other mother's. If you believe that I want to help you and want to work with me, meet me at Granny's tonight at 5. We have a plan of attack to figure out._

_Sincerely,_

_A Friend_

Henry beamed so widely he thought his mouth might fall off. Finally! Someone else believed he wasn't just making this up! And they were going to help him with Emma! Operation Cobra was back a go.

He glanced at the clock which hung on the wall. It read 3:45. There was a little time before his mystery correspondent wanted to meet him at the diner. Still, Henry decided to go there now. Maybe he'd run into Emma while he waited there. Seeing that someone else was on his side was very encouraging, and it revved up his zeal for the operation.

When he arrived at the diner, Henry made himself comfortable. Ruby came to take his order. At that moment, he saw Emma walk through the door out of the corner of his eye. Awesome.

"Two hot chocolates with cinnamon, please" Henry requested, as he motioned Emma over with a wave. It was time for Operation Cobra 2.0.

* * *

Henry's responder decided to go back to the diner around 4:45. Surely if he'd gotten the letter, the boy must have been curious about exactly who it was who believed him and wanted to help. Placing a letter into the box outside the diner, the person passed Emma, who was just leaving, on the way in and sat next to Henry.

* * *

**A/N 2:** Okay, so the letter writer had a bit of a personal agenda, but the person still does genuinely want to help Henry! They have the same end goal. Hopefully I did the character justice and the letter was okay. Kudos to **nahbois68**, **kb5000**, **flagurl1j**, **CandyApple75**, **sudoku **(watched the episode and still can't say I give two cares about August),** janeaustenite6** (hopefully your fears have been assuaged by the above A/N!), **Linzerj**, and the guest, who all guessed correctly last week that Henry wrote the letter. It was a bit of an easy chapter, but some end up easier than others. **sudoku**, I agree that Henry is the biggest shipper of all canon ships. He literally does things by the book (sorry, the pun was too good to pass up).

Enjoy the chapter; just a few more to go before the hiatus is over and this story reaches its close. Thanks to all my readers, old and new, for reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting. You guys all rock! Don't forget to review about this week's chapter or the story in general with guesses, questions, or comments! See you back here next week!


	15. Sincerely, Sorry Son

**Author's Note:** It's Sunday. In lieu of a new episode of Once Upon a Time, please accept my humble offering of a new chapter for this story.

**janeaustenite6:** All I got out of your review was a favorable comparison to Harry Potter, the books that basically defined my childhood. So please excuse me while I freak out and thank you for making my dream come true! Seriously, you're awesome times infinity. In other news, this story will most likely be getting a sequel, so keep your eyes peeled after the epilogue!

_Standard Disclaimer: _I don't own the show, and I would kindly ask that ABC doesn't sue me for using some of its dialogue. If I did own it, character development would be stable, and Regina would always have a happy ending.

* * *

*This chapter takes place in the "The Stranger" era*

The tired individual walked into Granny's and sat down at a table. Everyone needed help today. Apparently everything in the entire town was falling apart, and this person was the only one who could fix it. Was there seriously no other person handy with a hammer and some nails?

Exhausted, the person slumped down at a table and ordered a coffee. The energy would be needed to get everything done by the end of the day. Ruby delivered the coffee with a respectful smile, and then went on to flirt with some of the younger men who had entered the diner.

Never had so many people required this resident's assistance all at once. Things didn't really change in Storybrooke. They just stayed the way they were, forever. That is, until a few months ago, when the clock started working again. And a good thing that was too, because this Storybrooke citizen was afraid that it would need to be looked at if it didn't start working soon.

With the cup of coffee drained, the person adjusted a tool belt and decided to head back to work. There hadn't been so much business in months, and this resident needed all the business that could be scrounged up. No complaints would be heard about extra work.

Thinking back, the person tried to figure out the current dilemma. How could it be fixed? Everything possible had been tried already. If it wasn't done soon, Mr. Gold would be furious, and everyone knew what happened to people who got on his bad side. Maybe just a small distraction wouldn't be so bad.

The box was still standing next to Granny's. Perhaps there was a letter inside it. The curious individual opened the top slowly, and was met with a single folded sheet at the bottom. Stiff, wooden handwriting covered the page, solid, yet somewhat shaky.

_Dear Friend,_

_ My problem is more unusual than most. I'll get right to it. You see, I was once a small boy, and I lived with my father. We were all the other had, and that was enough for us. One day, my father received news of, so to speak, adverse circumstances that would put both of us at risk. My father decided to send me away, figuring that he could at least make sure one of us could be safe. He sent me away with a promise to make sure that we are one day reunited. His last words to me were that he would be proud of me because I would one day be a great man. Well, long story short, I haven't been a great man. I did some dubious things that I'm not proud of, and have spent most of my life living pretty selfishly. I did not even try to keep the promise I made to him until a couple months ago, and now, it is too late. There is someone I was supposed to protect, and I didn't do that. I abandoned her, to her own devices. I am doing my best to make it up to her now, but I fear it won't be enough. Even if it is, I am stuck in a dilemma. If I do help her, I will be reunited with my father, but he will remember what a selfish coward I've been, and he would be ashamed. If I don't, I will never be reunited with him and drift through the rest of my life as lonely as before. All I want is to find him and for him to be proud of me, but I know that it would be too much to ask, after everything I've done. I am so confused. How should I handle this?_

_ Sincerely,_

_ Sorry Son_

Oh dear. This poor man needed a lot of help. The reader chuckled, waiting to get back to the workshop before penning a reply.

* * *

August sighed. His encounter with Henry had gone fairly well. The plan had been concocted; now it was just a matter of setting it in motion, and the sooner the better. His leg pains had been getting worse. Wood now stretched all the way up his thigh. If the curse wasn't broken soon, he would go back to being a puppet made of wood. But the chances of convincing Emma, a jaded cynic worthy of Diogenes, were slim to none.

Having resigned himself to a life of immobility and splinters, August figured one last drink wouldn't go amiss. He ambled over to Granny's, dragging his dead leg behind him, and ordered a scotch on the rocks.

"Bottoms up" he said glumly, downing the drink and setting down the glass. No one paid him any attention. They'd learned to avoid him by now. Sighing, he paid the bill and walked out of Granny's.

Figuring he had nothing to lose, he went over to the box to check it. It was almost a shock to see his letter returned so quickly. The paper had _To Lost Loner _written on the front in rough, yet somehow beautiful handwriting; the practiced hand of a craftsman.

_Dear Sorry,_

_ That sounds like quite the complicated problem. I am not sure exactly what is going on in your life right now. Your description was fairly vague, so I can't give very specific advice. Instead, I will just tell you how I would react if I were your father. I do not have any children of my own, but I've always wanted a son. It just wasn't in the stars for me; no matter how many times I wished, I was never so lucky. First, you were very lucky to have a father who loved you like that. I hope you appreciate that. But, from what you tell me, it seems that he was just as lucky to have you. So you made some mistakes. Everybody does. We're not perfect, you know. The important thing is that you realized that you made a mistake and are doing your best to fix it. That is what matters. We've all done things we're not proud of, but some people stay in that place, while others choose to move on and mature. It sounds to me like you're in the second category. I would be proud to have a son like you, and I am sure that your father feels the same way. As for this girl that you mentioned, try to make it up to her. It might not be easy, but it is the right thing to do. Besides, it will reunite you with your father, which is what you want. And don't worry. You might have been a selfish coward once, but it does not sound like you are still that way to me. My advice to you is to go find your father and tell him the whole story. If he is anything like me, he won't judge you based on your past, but instead on the upstanding man he sees before him. Now go find your father. He has a son he needs to be proud of._

_Sincerely,_

_ A Friend_

August finished reading the response, emotions choking up in his throat. What a kind person. And maybe he was right. Maybe his past didn't need to define him, and he could start over an honest man. He'd work on Emma some more tomorrow. Breaking the curse could wait another day, seeing as it had already waited twenty-eight years. Right now, he had to find his father.

Revving up his motorcycle, August hopped on and sped off to the place where he knew he could find his father at any hour. He hoped that the man would be half as accepting as his responder seemed to be of him and his mistakes.

* * *

Meanwhile, writing the response had set off some suspicions in the head of August's correspondent. Brushing them off, the person continued working. The clock would be fixed eventually.

* * *

**A/N 2:** So, I didn't end up hating this nearly as much as I thought I would by the end. Hopefully it's passable. Congrats to **janeaustenite6**, **Linzerj**, **sudoku **(I agree about August's selfishness, which is why in my story, he's actually sorry about being a jerk), **CandyApple75**, **kb5000**, and **White Belt Writer**, who all guessed correctly last week. If you guys thought that was obvious, this week should be super easy for everyone. Thank you all for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following. You must be tired of hearing this by now, but it's incredibly gratifying and motivating to write for such excellent readers. I never expected to get such a loyal following, and it's you guys who motivate me to write this every week. Stay golden and hang in there; just a couple more weeks to go!

The review box is getting lonely; why not show it some love with a quick review?

See you next week!


	16. Sincerely, Frustrated Father

**Author's Note:** One more week of hiatus, guys. We can do this! Just a couple weeks of this story left...things are winding down to a close.

**Tori: **Thank you, you're too kind! Unfortunately, Tamara or any other season 2 characters won't be making an appearance in this story, as it is firmly set in season 1. However, if after the season ends I do a season 2 sequel of this story, you can be sure that she'll be there!

**janeaustenite6:** Hello, fellow Potterhead! It's nice to formally meet you! I loved Prisoner of Azkaban too, but Order of the Phoenix was always my favorite. If you want to chat more about Harry Potter or Once, PM me, since I don't want to rant about Harry Potter in a story not about Harry Potter. This is exciting!

**sudoku:** Ah, you figured out the method to my madness! Your pre-guess was wrong, as you shall soon see, but more logical than my choice. I have my reasons for setting up the order as I did. All will be clear next week.

**Guest:** I am indeed an Outsiders fan! Would I be correct in assuming I'm talking to a fellow Outsiders fan? Truthfully, Mr. Gold isn't a character I've considered much, but he would probably agree that "nothing gold can stay", since he has lost almost everyone he loved, and most likely get angry about this and smash things. Belle is still with him though, ever since the season 1 finale. Honestly, I think that poem would fit Regina more, since she not only lost everyone she loved, but herself as well. At least Mr. Gold retained his sense of self. Regina lost her innocence, the "gold" referred to in the novel, too.

**Note:** This chapter jumps around the season 1 timeline quite liberally...just go with it.

_Standard Disclaimer: _I don't own Once Upon a Time. On with the chapter!

* * *

No! Before the person could catch them, the dishes tumbled out of hand and crashed to the floor with a resounding shatter. Where once beautiful china was now were shards of broken porcelain; the priceless set rendered worthless. Hastily, the person made to sweep up the mess before anyone discovered it.

Chores were getting harder and harder to do as time passed, but this was no excuse. Between the china and the sheets, job loss was very likely, and that was something that could not be afforded; not with the way things were at home.

It was the second such accident in a week. This employee was done for now. Gulping back tears, the distressed worker surveyed the scene, taking in the damage. Only the empty china cabinet told the tale of what had ensued. Hiding the evidence, the distraught employee decided to take a walk down to Granny's to clear their head.

The walk to Granny's passed alarmingly fast, as the individual was deeply engrossed in their thoughts. How was any of this possible? It was so surreal. Not noticing where they were going, the person bumped into the telephone pole that still held up the box. Wincing slightly, the person looked at the box. There were stories spreading around town about this box, stories that could ruin lives, but also stories that it could help. But the rules said someone had to answer a letter before writing one of their own. So, the curious person peered inside to see if there was a letter to be answered, and indeed there was. It was written in rough, practical handwriting that still managed to be elegant; the handwriting of a craftsman.

_Dear Friend,_

_ I don't know what to do. This situation is too unusual. You see, yesterday, a grown man came to where I work and introduced himself as my son. My son! That is ridiculous! I don't have a son. I always wanted a son, a boy to call my own, but fate had different plans for me. Okay. It wasn't easy, but I could accept that. But now to have someone come and tell me that he is my son…that is too cruel. Is this a lie, or a bad joke? That is what it sounded like to me, but he didn't appear to be joking, which is the strangest part. He was being completely serious, like he believed the things he was saying. But it can't be. It's too good to be true. I don't have a son, and I never did. I did not know how to react to what was obviously a lunatic, so I told him he could work for me. He may or may not be my son, but he still deserves kindness. Still, I have a suspicion that he is actually telling the truth. He had no reason to lie to me, nothing to gain from that. He seemed sincere when he told me. I don't know what to believe anymore. If he is right, then my whole world will be turned upside down. Everything I have believed would be a lie. I don't know if I'm ready for that. I don't want to get my hopes up again just to watch them crash down again. It's happened too many times before and it's not pleasant. I can't go through that disappointment again. Do you think he is telling the truth, that I am really his father? Should I give him a chance? What should I do?_

_ Sincerely,_

_ Frustrated Father_

The reader's heart sank as the letter was finished. There was no way this letter could be answered, and if the letter wasn't answered, the finder couldn't write one of their own. Those were the rules. Still, the person reasoned, if an answer is given, any answer, it would be enough to earn a letter of their own and the chance to solve this impossible dilemma.

* * *

Marco had finally finished fixing the clock. Despite his initial reservations about it, August's advice had actually worked and it only took another half hour or so to get the clock working properly. But that had been the easy part. August's words weighed heavily on him. It was impossible. He couldn't be his father. How could he have a son that he knew nothing about? After so many years of hoping, it was far too good to believe. And there was the matter of his reply causing this to happen. It made his head spin. This box; it could be dangerous if the wrong person found out the wrong thing.

Nevertheless, he had written a letter about his problem with August. The temptation of help was too tantalizing to pass up. After finishing the repairs for the day, he wiped up the sawdust from his workbench and headed to Granny's to see if anyone had ventured a reply.

His letter had been placed in the box with _To Frustrated Father_ written in hasty cursive, the handwriting nice, but somehow melancholy. Big wet splotches marked the reply in a couple spots. The responder had clearly been crying when writing this.

_Dear Frustrated,_

_ Your problem sounds very difficult. I've never heard anything like it. To tell you the truth, it's a bit over my head, but since I found the letter, I have to answer. That's what the rules say, and there's no point in making trouble for no reason. Besides, I do want to help you, I just don't know how. Honestly, I feel like I would relate more to his side of the problem than yours. However, I will tell you how I would feel if I were in his position. All his life, he's never known his father, and because of that, never known where he came from. That is incredibly frustrating. I know how it is; I never knew my mother. She died when I was just a baby. I grew up with people who treated me like garbage, without any way out or hope of improvement. At least this man who says he's your son got the chance to try and find his father. I'm sure he's not saying this lightly. He must have some sort of reason why he's claiming to be your son. Surely he's been searching for a long time, and finally found something worth believing. If you're really skeptical as to his honesty, ask him for proof. Provided he's telling the truth, he'll be able to give you the evidence you need to believe him. And since you have wanted a son for so long, why doubt it when one shows up? It may be difficult, but believing him will make both of you happier. Sometimes dreams do come true. Look, it's not easy being separated from a child, or having to give one up. That's probably the hardest decision a parent would have to make. But sometimes, life gives us a second chance. It lets us have better than we deserve, even if we've made a terrible mistake. I don't know if you made a mistake or not, but it sounds like life is giving you your second chance here. Take it before it's too late and you're left alone and childless._

_ Sincerely, _

_ A Friend_

He read over the last few lines several times before they fully sank in. Maybe the responder was right. Just because something seemed too good to be true didn't mean it had to be so. Life didn't always have to be miserable and lonely. Sometimes good things could happen too.

Marco walked into Granny's and ordered a coffee. He had a feeling August would show up soon wherever he was. It was time they had a good talk.

* * *

The replier finally finished their shift. Groaning, the person set down the last heavy box of dishes to replace the broken ones on the table. Lifting was becoming harder and harder as the months passed by. With the shift done, the person placed a folded sheet of paper in an apron pocket, which was now stretched quite tightly over their front, destined for the box outside Granny's.

* * *

**A/N 2: **I think this week's chapter is difficult to guess, to be honest, so anyone who does gets bonus points from me. Congratulations to **kb5000**, **flagurl1j**, **Tori**, **janeaustenite6**, **sudoku**, **White Belt Writer**, and the guest who all guessed correctly last week. I hope you all liked this week's chapter, and I'm glad that you like the idea of a sequel. There may be a bit of a delay between the epilogue and the start of the sequel so I can figure out how it should go, but I will try to write one. If anyone else wants to try and do their own version of a story like this, they have my full encouragement to do so. Thank you once more for reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing, and don't forget to review with your guesses for this week! See you all back here next week!


	17. Sincerely, Troubled Teen

**Author's Note:** As I continue flailing because of that "shocking" promo and await to have my feels crushed once and for all, here's the new chapter. There are canonical events from earlier that get mixed in with later season 1 developments. Again, go with it. I have a feeling you all are going to like this chapter.

Serious note: Let's take a moment to appreciate everything that's happened in the US this week, and how amazing the police force is. It was a crazy, awful week, but we survived, and came out stronger than ever for it. Still praying for the victims affected by the tragedy. I don't know how things went down in Texas, but I am proud to call myself a Bostonian.

**sudoku: **King George won't be part of the correspondence. He didn't play that much of a part in the show, and he isn't a part of my outline.

_**Outsiders **_**loving guest: **Of course I answered you! I answer all my reviews! This next part goes out to everyone that asked this question about who answers the previous person: if I did things exactly the way they were done on the show, it wouldn't be a very interesting story, would it? Someone different answers the letter writer.

**Potterhead guest:** I actually did know all those Potter facts (professional Potterhead over here), and I have to say my favorite part was in Prisoner of Azkaban when Harry and Hermione travel back in time to save Sirius and Buckbeak. It had Hermione and Sirius, two of my favorite characters, time travel, and the Marauders, whom I think deserved their own prequel. Otherwise, my favorite novel overall was Order of the Phoenix.

_Standard Disclaimer:_ I don't own the show. If I did, nobody would be hooked up to wires and awaiting torture (you know what you did, show).

* * *

*The events in this chapter are based on "The Price of Gold"*

As soon as the rent was collected, this Storybrooke resident decided to go to Granny's for a bit. It was a slow day, and Granny's would be the perfect place to do some thinking. Things were changing in Storybrooke; things that had remained constant for years. The clock, perennially stuck at 8:15, had recently started ticking again, as good as new. A coma patient, David Nolan had awoken, seemingly out of the blue. Very peculiar indeed. For this Storybrooke resident, the pieces were beginning to come together. It was time.

On the way to Granny's, this person encountered the box. Much news had spread about this box, but the citizen had decided to delay their involvement until the optimal moment. Now it appeared to be that moment.

Sure, stories about the box and its contents had spread like wildfire throughout town. People really were quite imprudent about their personal problems. Rumors of adultery, affairs, and other faults blemishing the apparently perfect exteriors of the fine townspeople that occupied Storybrooke were often whispered in hushed tones at Granny's when gossipmongers thought no one was listening. But someone was. Someone had been paying attention the entire time. And now, this person was ready to get some personal experience with this infamous box.

The lid opened with a creak to reveal a letter inside. It was written in rushed cursive, as if the writer had to get the words out before their courage fled; bubbly, yet somehow despondent.

_Dear Friend,_

_ I'm not sure if the person who finds this is actually a friend to me, and if this gets out, it could be awful, but I've tried handling it on my own, and I can't. I've run out of options. This is my last resort. What I am about to write is extremely personal and confidential, so please don't tell anyone about it. I'm pregnant. That might not sound like the end of the world, but I'm only 19! I have a boyfriend, and we've been dating for a couple years now, but neither one of us is ready for a baby. I still live at home. My family is barely making ends meet as it is. Having a baby would only add financial pressure to us. His family isn't any better off. I haven't told him yet because I don't know how he'll react, and not just him. His father is, well, let's just say, not my biggest fan. I've heard him tell my boyfriend that he could do a lot better than a poor maid with a lousy family. Honestly, I'm starting to think he's right. Maybe he does deserve better. Maybe I should just break up with him. It's not like I've told him about the baby. No one would be the wiser. But that still doesn't help me with my baby issue. I can't raise a baby on my own any more than I can with just my boyfriend. Not to mention, my stepmother would kill me if she found out I was having a baby. She will eventually, but the longer I can delay that day, the better. Of course, there are options in which she doesn't find out, but abortion is just not an option for me. I just can't go through with that. Adoption I'd be open to, but is there even an adoption agency in town? Storybrooke's awfully small. Please, if you know anything that could help me take care of my baby problem, tell me now, before it's too late!_

_ Sincerely,_

_ Troubled Teen_

Well, well, well. Seems like someone had a serious problem. The letter finder smirked, rereading the poor girl's frantic rant. Perhaps this could be used in a way that could be personally beneficial.

* * *

Ashley finally finished mopping the floors and dusting all the furniture. She hadn't realized how strenuous her job was until the baby bump made it difficult for her to perform any tasks that required bending at the waist. The floors seemed harder to clean than ever. Groaning, she finally finished applying the last coat of polish to the wood floors and got up slowly, in order to avoid upsetting her baby. It was growing faster now. It? She. Ashley was sure she was carrying a little girl. Call it a mother's intuition.

No. She shouldn't get too attached to the baby. Who knew if she'd even be able to keep it? She had to go back to the box and see if anyone had found her letter and replied. There was no way she could handle this on her own. Maybe someone older and wiser than her could help.

When she got to the box, night was already falling. The diner was in the transitional period between lunch and dinner, almost deserted. Good. There was less chance of someone finding her. Furtively, she walked over to the box and slipped out the expected reply, running as quickly as she could away from the scene. There was no reason for her to feel guilty, but for whatever reason, she did.

After arriving home, Ashley went to her room, a small, cramped space in the corner of the house, and finally opened her letter. The reply was written in smooth, polished handwriting; sophistication evident in every word on the page.

_Dear Troubled,_

_ Please do calm down, miss. I can feel you hyperventilating through the paper. Surely you know that's not healthy for the baby. As for your letter, that's quite the complicated predicament you're in, dearie. Pregnant with a deadbeat boyfriend and a disapproving family on both ends, my, my. It's a wonder you got this far on your own. I suppose congratulations are in order for your tenacity. But you have reached the end of your rope. The point of no return. You can't go any further. Allow me to offer my services. I can make all your problems disappear. You say that you are pregnant with a baby that you neither want nor can handle. It just so happens that I am interested in obtaining a child. Perhaps we could make a deal that could be mutually beneficial. I quite agree with you that an abortion would help no one in this case, and as you so astutely observed, there are no adoption agencies in Storybrooke. However, I specialize in such legal matters; babies being my area of expertise. If you allow me to take that precious baby off your hands, I can assure you that the child will be well cared for and you will be generously compensated for your troubles. Not only that, but it will take the unnecessary strain off of what seems to be an already tense relationship between you and your boyfriend. Small piece of advice, dearie: just because someone is poor doesn't make them worth any less. Don't let anyone make you feel like you are because you have less money. If lack of financial status is the only reason his father can state to keep you two apart, that's not good enough. As for whether or not you two should break up, I'll leave that up to you to decide. You can't go around relying on anonymous strangers to solve all your problems in life, can you? Ultimately, it's up to you whom to tell and when. I shan't meddle here. You don't have to agree to give me your baby, but know that I always uphold my deals. Meet me at Granny's tomorrow at 5 if you agree to this arrangement, so that we can discuss terms and fine-tune the details of this contract._

_ Sincerely,_

_ A Friend_

Ashley read over the letter in confusion. Someone wanted to help her, but who, and why? She had a bad feeling about this. Something seemed off. People didn't just offer to take a baby off your hands without expecting something in return. Then again, it's not like she had offers raining down from the sky. She'd take what she could get. Making a mental note to go to Granny's at 5 the next day, she folded the letter and stuffed it into a drawer, hoping no one would find it.

* * *

Meanwhile, Ashley's benefactor placed another letter into the box, and then hobbled uneasily into the diner for a quick drink before heading home.

* * *

**A/N 2:** Okay yes, this chapter was easy, and I apologize for making you wait so long for this character, but this is where they fit into my outline. Hopefully it lived up to you expectations. Congratulations to **kb5000**, **kirauza343**, **CandyApple75**, **sudoku,** the guests, **MusicalGirl97**, **SwingState29, Linzerj**, **flagurl1j**, and **janeaustenite6**, who all guessed correctly last week. Just two more letters to go.

In other news, I chose this week, of all weeks, to make a tumblr. That's right; I went over to the dark side. I go by foreveranevilregal on there, so if any of you want to drop by and say hello, I'll be waiting! Now to go have my feels crushed by this week's episode. Thanks for sticking with me and this story; I don't know about you, but I'm still having a blast. See you all again next week!


	18. Sincerely, Desperate Dad

**Author's Note:** This is it guys. The chapter you've all been waiting for. Hopefully it lives up to your expectations. I kind of had a hard week this week, so I apologize if it's not up to the usual standard. Also, this chapter has been planned out since early January, and it's even more ironic with recent news. I love it when that happens.

**sudoku**: As far as I can tell, tumblr is used for making gif and photo sets and reblogging the same 15 text posts from 10 different people. But then again, I don't really get it either.

**Cherry** (love the name, by the way): Interesting guess, but yes, you shall see. I definitely have a direction I'm heading in for this, and the correspondent here is key. Kudos for picking up that Regina hasn't replied to a letter yet. I know you're not the only one to do so, but I'll just point it out here and leave it out there for you all to do with as you will. Glad you liked the last chapter.

_Standard Disclaimer_: I don't own Once Upon a Time. On with the show!

* * *

*This chapter is set around the end of season 1*

Well this was stupid. How was there literally nothing to do at work? It had to be the most pointless job in all of history. Setting aside all the tedious paperwork, the bored resident decided to go to Granny's for a bear claw. Bear claws were always good for cheering someone up.

After polishing off the bear claw, the person crumpled up the paper wrapper and aimed a high arc at the garbage can. The makeshift ball swished cleanly into the garbage, a flawlessly executed three-pointer, bringing a smile to the person's face. Yet all the three-pointers in the world wouldn't make this stupid paperwork go away.

Grumbling, the utterly uninterested worker began making their way through the never-ending pile of papers slowly, wondering when exactly the mind-numbing ennui would drive them insane, but working diligently, if haphazardly. Regina wasn't the most pleasant person in a good mood, and in a bad mood, she could be downright dangerous.

A couple hours later, a sizable dent had been made in the paperwork. Deciding that this merited a reward of some good old-fashioned greasy burgers and fries, the tired worker headed back to Granny's for the second time that day. Really, it shouldn't be made a habit, but look at how much they didn't care right now.

Having devoured the most wonderfully delicious burger known to mankind, the now sated customer decided to procrastinate on the paperwork a bit more. The box in front of Granny's would be a good distraction.

To be completely honest, the person didn't care one way or the other about the box. It was for little people sick of their little lives. However, maybe there would be a nice laugh from whatever letter was inside.

Score! A single letter was nestled in the bottom of the box. The finder pulled it out and unfolded it to reveal smooth, sophisticated handwriting traveling neatly across the page.

_Dear Friend, _

_ I'll skip the pleasantries in order to expedite this process. I have a problem and I require assistance. I have attempted to resolve this issue on my own, but decades of effort have proven unfruitful. You see, a long time ago I had a son; a little boy. He was my all; everything I had left after his mother abandoned us. We were a modest family; we didn't have much materially, but we had each other, and that was all that mattered. However, through a series of unfortunate circumstances, I lost my boy. First I lost his respect, then his love, and finally I lost him entirely. It could be said that he disappeared off the face of the earth for some time. I tried to look for him, but it was to no avail. The place he had chosen to hide was one inaccessible to me. Ever since that point, my life has been a horrible blur. For the longest time, I was even able to forget what I'd lost when he left me. Thanks to recent events, however, I have recovered my memory of him, but here's the rub. I have no idea where he actually is. My son was, amongst other things, quite skilled at hiding and making himself inconspicuous when he didn't want to be found. I require the assistance of someone equally as skilled at finding people; someone who could track down my son and bring him to me. It's the only way I'll be able to get my boy back and apologize to him for everything I did to alienate him. Bring him to me and you will be richly rewarded. If feel you are not competent to complete this task, a simple reply of "This task is beyond my abilities" will suffice, and we can both move on and never speak of this incident again. If you feel, however, that you are capable of this task, reply to this letter and meet me in Granny's diner on the day when the reply has been collected. I will then inform you of all known facts necessary to identify and find my son. After I have been reunited with him and have verified his identity, you will be recompensed for your troubles. Consider this opportunity; I am wealthy and desperate to find my son._

_ Sincerely,_

_ Desperate Dad_

Well, this was certainly interesting. Regina's paperwork could wait another hour, right? It was al busywork anyway. Her ire could be dealt with later. This seemed more rewarding.

* * *

Gold exited the diner feeling cautiously optimistic. Perhaps this town wasn't entirely full of complete idiots, and there was someone halfway competent who could answer his letter. Or, it could be found by some inept imbecile, which seemed more likely, but Gold wasn't going to consider that option. He needed to find his son, and this letter was his last resort.

As he slowly peered into the box, he saw his letter stuck back into the bottom of it. Someone had replied. The front was addressed _To Desperate Dad_ in messy, medium-sized cursive, the script breaking and verging on print.

_Dear Desperate,_

_ You really don't like asking for help, do you? What's the matter? Afraid you'll be in someone's debt? Anyways, ouch, that sounds awful, but I get it. I know what it's like to spend your entire life looking for someone who should have been close to you. You start to question everything after a while. It kind of completely sucks. You must be really desperate if you're reaching out through anonymous letter, with every other option exhausted, every method failed, every next idea more hopeless than the last. This could've been a complete dead end for you, but the good news is that it isn't. Luckily for you, finding people is what I do. I specialize in finding people who don't want to be found, teasing them out of the woodwork and bringing them to light. Your letter found the right person for the job. I've spent the last ten years looking for people who are very good at hiding; let me tell you, and catching them. There is no need to worry about my competence; I'll let my track record speak for itself. Never once let a man get away, and those were hardened criminals I was dealing with. Finding your son will be a piece of cake after that. The nice pay will be just a bonus. Meet me at Granny's around 7 so you can brief me on what I'm looking for. Then as soon as I can figure out how to get my intolerable boss to give me a couple weeks' vacation, I'll get right on that. If everything goes well, you should have your son back by the Fourth of July._

_ Sincerely,_

_ A Friend_

Gold finished reading the response. So there was someone who wasn't completely inept in the town. It was a slight relief. Cocky as his responder seemed, Gold was still reassured that the person could get the job done. He'd go to Granny's and attempt to deflate his correspondent's ego a bit in order to get his expectations back to a manageable level.

Turning on his cane, he hobbled back into the diner and ordered a black coffee to keep him occupied until his mysterious helper decided to show up.

* * *

An hour later, Gold's responder finally set down the last of the pesky paperwork and glanced at the clock. It said 6:50. When did that happen? Grabbing a jacket, the person ran out the door and got into a decrepit car, rattling the door shut before flooring it all the way to Granny's, hoping they wouldn't be late. The person had an inkling about who wrote the letter, and knew that he didn't like being disappointed.

On the way in, the rushing person managed to cram their own letter into the box outside Granny's. There was no sense in letting the trip past the box go to waste. Now, to see how to help Gold find his son.

* * *

**A/N 2:** It's a lot easier to guess now than it was in the beginning, huh? Lots of clues this chapter, and although I'm not sure how the response came out, you'll still be able to guess who it is with no problem. Congratulations to **kirauza343**, **sudoku**, **kb5000**, **Linzerj** (who hopefully did not in fact die of despair and sadness because she was right, and thanks for the compliment, dear!), **Cherry**, **White Belt Writer**, **flagurl1j**, and **MusicalGirl97**, who all guessed correctly. Gold's jargon really is distinctive, isn't it? One more letter to go before the epilogue. Dun dun dun! I'm kind of sad this story's almost over, guys. To cheer me up, you could always leave a review with a guess, or a comment, or a Potter rant, I'll take it all. I read every single review and they bring a smile to my face. Thank you to everyone who's stuck this story out with me since the very beginning, and welcome to any new readers. Everyone's welcome on this crazy ride. Now I'm off to watch the new episode and hope it doesn't break my heart too badly. See you all back here next week for the final letter!


	19. Sincerely, Skeptical Savior

**Author's Note:** This week's chapter is extra long because I love you guys so much, and I want you to have something happy before tonight's episode. Seriously, I have the most wonderful readers in the world. Thank you all so much for sticking with this story, and I'm not going to cry until this is over. This is the last letter, and it's ridiculously easy to guess (I all but say the person's name), but never fear, the 2 part epilogue starts next week!

**Cherry:** I have to say, I look forward to your review every week, and you didn't disappoint. You are the sweetest person ever. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for that wonderful compliment. It means a lot to me that you appreciate this story so much. Honestly, I didn't think it was such a big deal, or that it was that good, but I'm glad you all like it so much. I had a really bad week last week, and to read such wonderful things really cheered me up. I wish you had an account on here so we could talk.

**janeaustenite6:** Hope your studies are going well. I want that shirt! I could add it to my Bazinga shirt, my Soft Kitty shirt, and my Evil Queen shirt collection.

_Standard Disclaimer:_ I don't own Once Upon a Time. I just like to take the characters out of the box and play with them sometimes.

* * *

*This chapter takes place before "An Apple Red as Blood"

The workday was almost over. This resident had been working steadily all day, and their diligence was paying off nicely. There was no more paperwork to be done. Perhaps tomorrow's work could be started early, utilizing this burst of productivity that had come upon them today.

A little while later, the hard worker finally peeled their eyes away from the computer screen and looked up at the clock. 6:30: an hour and a half past the end of the workday, again. When did it become habitual to work late? How did this become a regular occurrence?

Frustrated, the person slammed their laptop shut and packed up their briefcase, slipping in some files to be looked over later, after he went to bed. Dinner would be late as is; there was no way this person would allow anything to prevent the devotion of their undivided attention to him for the rest of the night.

Seeing as this person was already running late, they might as well make it for a worthwhile reason. The frazzled resident stopped by Granny's to pick up a fresh, warm apple pie, a personal favorite. The apples, gooey and sprinkled with sweet cinnamon, were visible through the crust. Delicious. Add in a quart of vanilla ice cream, and it would the perfect way to apologize for being late yet again.

As the person walked out of Granny's and toward the store for the ice cream, the box caught their eye. It had stood proudly for weeks now. Stories had reached even their ears about the power of this box, a power that could be personally attested to. Perhaps now was the moment to see if there was a letter to be answered.

Reaching inside the box, the finder snatched up a sheet of crookedly folded paper. Success. Sticking it into the briefcase to be perused later, the letter finder hurried off to get the ice cream and then prepare dinner.

Dinner went off without a hitch. It had taken great coordination to execute, but an hour later, baked chicken, rice, and steamed vegetables graced the dining room table, with the pie and ice cream waiting in the kitchen for dessert. Silence permeated the room, but both were used to this by now. After a couple awkward exchanges, they had allowed the conversation to die off and silence to take its natural course. Even the dessert was eaten without a word. Mumbling a thank you, he excused himself, leaving the distraught individual alone, and went upstairs.

He didn't come back down. Well, there was no reason in wasting time. Pulling out a file to look over, the person accidentally grabbed the letter alongside the desired file. Curiosity getting the better of them, they pulled on a pair of reading glasses and unfolded the sheet.

Messy cursive assaulted their eyes, the script breaking into print and turning back to cursive haphazardly. It was oh too familiar; the same handwriting that encountered this person's vision in the daily "Sorry this paperwork is so late" notes hastily scrawled atop manila folders delivered three days too late. Wondering what on earth _she_ could have to write about, the ever more miserable letter finder began to read.

_Dear Friend,_

_ Yeah, okay. Like I'm supposed to believe that whoever finds this letter will magically be my friend just because the person who started this box said so. Whatever. We both know that's probably not true, so I'll just ask you to have the common courtesy of reading this letter through, at least partway. I wouldn't even be writing it, but I really need to vent, and I don't want to make my roommate listen to my rants, again. Poor woman has enough on her plate as it is, and besides, she doesn't believe me. So, I'll start at the top. Flashback to me a few months ago: I was living in Boston (by far the best place I've lived so far), had a great job, steady income, a sweet place to live, no personal attachments to keep me tied down. I'd been living there for about 8 months and had everything figured out when this kid shows up at my door and tells me he's my son. Strange, right? Everything he told me checked out though, as crazy as it sounded, but I didn't want a kid, so I drove him back up to his mother's house to drop him off. That's when things got really weird. He believes that this entire town is full of fairytale characters that were cursed here by the Evil Queen from Snow White, and none of them remember who they are. Apparently I'm also a part of this world of his, as the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. My destiny, according to him, is to break the curse by defeating the Evil Queen because I'm the Savior, or something. That can't possibly be true, right? I couldn't believe it at first, but certain events have made me seriously question my resolve. Is this curse thing real, or is it just the overactive imagination of a ten year old that needs more friends? I mean, it sounds ridiculous, but the person who he thinks is the Evil Queen, his adoptive mother; well, let's just say she won't be winning Best Personality anytime soon. She is the most self-righteous, condescending, selfish, controlling woman I have ever met. Every time I try to do something, anything, she is there to block me at every turn. I don't know if I want to go as far as to say she's evil, but her behavior isn't winning her any brownie points. She just infuriates me so much! She keeps trying to get me to leave, and take my son, who went and sought me out, might I add, away from me. I guess I haven't really asked a question yet, so how do I deal with all this nonsense?_

_ Sincerely,_

_ Skeptical Savior_

Well this was certainly interesting. It appeared that Emma Swan was unhappy about her life here in Storybrooke. This could easily be remedied. Pulling out a pen, the reader began composing a reply that would hopefully put the insufferable woman at rest and get her to leave once and for all.

* * *

Emma just got out of work. Some juvenile delinquents had decided to vandalize the playground, and so she'd been called upon to straighten the matter out and deal with them. Luckily, all they'd done was write some impolite words on the slide before she got there. She arrested them quickly and brought them back to the sheriff's station for their parents to pick them up. After all the kids were taken care of and the slide cleaned off, Emma decided she deserved a nice hot chocolate at Granny's, or maybe even something stronger.

Carrying her hot chocolate, which she had spiked from a flask covertly hidden inside her jacket, out, Emma let her curiosity get the better of her and checked on the box. Her letter had been returned to the box, refolded neatly and crisply, addressed _To Skeptical Savior_ in beautiful, elegant script, feminine and sophisticated.

_Dear Skeptical,_

_ Really, Miss Swan, you must learn to be more subtle. I mean really, writing down half your life story in a supposedly "anonymous" letter? What an amateur mistake. Nonetheless, I am willing to look past this egregious error and write my reply in a professional manner, a task of which you seem utterly incapable. I am forced to break my own cardinal rule that I laid down for you and practically reveal my identity while penning this reply, but this is a personal matter for me. I find it difficult to pity you when it was _my son_ who abandoned me in search of you. You didn't ask for him to find you. I didn't ask to be forsaken and rejected by the one person I love most in this world; the only person I have left to bring me happiness. However, Henry's insubordination is not what perplexes me about you, Miss Swan. That would be your incessant desire to stay in Storybrooke and take away everything I love, everything I have worked so hard for, in all my years as mayor of this town. First, you go after my son, then my lover, then my authority as mayor. This has crossed the line. However, I like to think of myself as a reasonable person. Are you familiar with the concept of parley? You must be, in your line of work. Come to my house for dinner, tomorrow at 6:00. Do not be late, Miss Swan. You walk a thin line with me as it is. Perhaps then, we can plan out an arrangement with Henry that will please both of us. This is more generosity than you deserve from me, seeing as you lost the right to Henry when you signed the papers to his _closed adoption_, but I don't want to lose my son, and if the only way this will happen is if I allow him to spend time with you, I shall do what I must. Despite your hurtful insults (really dear, that's not the way to gain favor with someone who signs your paychecks), I am still willing to cooperate with you. As for Henry's fixation on this "curse", I assure you that it's not real and that I am not the Evil Queen. Evil. What a horrible label to affix to someone's title. I agree with you that he needs more friends, and will take measures to enroll him in more extracurricular activities so as to better occupy his time. Perhaps then his endless fascination with this fantasy world he has created in his head will end. I expect you at 6 sharp, Miss Swan. I don't like to be disappointed._

_ Sincerely,_

_ A Friend_

Emma chuckled. The responder's identity could not be anymore painfully obvious. Still Emma thought it would be a bad idea to disappoint that person. Tapping a reminder into her phone, she refolded the letter and went home.

* * *

Meanwhile, Emma's correspondent had begun kneading out the dough. There would be a special dessert for Miss Emma Swan tomorrow night.

* * *

**A/N 2:** Drastic times call for drastic measures, right? Hope you all enjoyed this chapter; it's quite possibly my favorite one. Congratulations to **kb5000**, **nahbois68**, **kirauza343**, **Linzerj**, **White Belt Writer**, **flagurl1j**, **sudoku** (that was the irony I was referring to in my A/N last chapter), **Cherry**, the very clever guest who appears to have figured out this week's chapter a week in advance, **MusicalGirl97**, **daypegoraro** (better late than never, right?), and **janeaustenite6**, who all guessed correctly. Everyone should be able to guess this week's chapter without any trouble. Please, don't forget to review; reviews make me happy, and when I'm happy, I update earlier. Guesses, comments, concerns, I'll take them all. Enjoy this fairly happy chapter before Regina gets tortured tonight.

Since a lot of you are curious about the sequel: It will be season 2 based, but I don't know when exactly I'll write it. Most likely, it'll be in the fall, as I can't guarantee regular updates during the summer, and I also have many other stories that I want to work on over the summer that have been abandoned.

Just a friendly reminder that I can still be found at foreveranevilregal . tumblr . com, for anyone who wants to talk to me on there, or see more pictures of Lana Parrilla on their dash.

Have a fantastic week, my dears; try not to cry too much over the episode, and I'll see you all back here next week for the beginning of the epilogue!


	20. Dinner at the Mills'

**Author's Note:** Yes, I am aware this is late, and I apologize. I had finals this week, and between that, moving back home, and the busy weekend I've had, this is the first chance I got to write this. If any mothers are in my readership, I hope you had a wonderful Mother's Day. How about that crazy season finale, huh? All the SwanQueen feels, and other ships too, but especially those two lovely ladies. That's part of the reason this chapter is late. SwanQueen hijacked my focus. I'm still reeling from the feels. Hopefully it's acceptable (I happen to quite like it), and will hold you over until the real epilogue next week. I just couldn't resist this scene though. You'll see why.

**Linzerj:** Don't worry, things start to get wrapped up here. Next week is the epilogue, and all the loose threads will be tied together neatly (as much as possible).

**Cherry:** Thank you once again for the wonderful review. No, Regina wouldn't torture herself by being subtle (ha ha), as she didn't in the very first letter either. I hope your finals went well, and at least now, they're done (right?).

_Standard Disclaimer: _I don't own Once Upon a Time or any quotes used herein, only my interpretation of how season 1 should have ended.

* * *

*This chapter takes place in "An Apple Red as Blood" and "A Land Without Magic"

It was five minutes before 6:00, and Regina was scurrying around the kitchen in order to get everything ready on time. The lasagna was cooling on the counter, its rich smell wafting through the house, and the salad was sitting next to it, freshly dressed, in Regina's favorite decorative bowl. Regina glanced at the clock to confirm that she had enough time to get everything done before Emma arrived; not that she was expecting the habitually late woman to be punctual.

She fixed the table settings nervously, fiddling with the silverware until it was positioned precisely to her specifications, and set the salad on the table. One last time, she opened the oven to make sure the apple turnovers were being kept warm in there. Everything had to be perfect for tonight. Finally, she poured some Parmesan cheese into a bowl for the lasagna and put it next to the salad. There. Now all she could do was to wait for Emma to show up.

Regina looked at the clock again. 6:00. If Emma were the type to show up on time, Regina would be on pins and needles, but considering her usual tardiness, Regina figured she had at least five more minutes to touch up her makeup and primp before the woman arrived, so she went to the bathroom to inspect her reflection in the mirror.

_Ding dong!_ The sound of the doorbell ringing jarred Regina from her last minute scrutiny. Of all the days, Emma had chosen this one to be punctual. Still fluffing her hair, she ran toward the door so as not to keep Emma waiting.

"Henry!" She called up the stairs. "Emma's here." At that, Henry ran down the stairs, skipping every other step in his excitement to see his birth mother. Regina opened the door and smiled graciously, instantly transforming her features into those of a consummate hostess.

"Hi" Emma said awkwardly, with her trademark lopsided smile. "I brought wine" she said, holding out a bottle of fine red.

Regina took it and rolled it over in her hands, reading the label. "I didn't take you for the wine type. Did you steal this from Mary Margaret?"

Emma laughed. "No, no, but I did ask for a recommendation. Did I get it right?"

Regina pursed her lips. "Yes, this will go nicely with dinner. Come in." She gestured Emma inside, bringing the wine to the kitchen.

"Is that lasagna?" Emma said, following her in and walking toward the kitchen. "I love lasagna." She offered, with a grateful smile.

"You love everything you don't need to cook yourself" Regina muttered under her breath, but managed to smile back. "Well, it's my signature recipe, so I hope you enjoy." She swept her arm over the table, indicating Emma should have a seat.

Emma sat down next to Henry, who sat in between his two mothers, leaving Regina at the head of the table. Both ladies had a glass of wine in front of them, whereas Henry made do with soda. Ever the gracious hostess, Regina immediately got up and began cutting generous portions of lasagna for the three of them, putting large slabs of the cheesy pasta on each plate.

As soon as the food hit her plate, Emma dug in, cutting the lasagna up and biting into it with gusto. "Wow, Regina, you weren't kidding. This is delicious! What's your secret?"

"A chef never reveals her secrets, Miss Swan." Regina smiled courteously.

"Oh, come on, Mom! It's Emma. She's practically family. Please" Henry wheedled. Regina gave a tight-lipped smile, and then relented.

"Red pepper flakes. Gives it a kick." She said amicably, trying very hard to be friendly with the blonde. Emma needed to be on her side if her plan was to work.

"Well, it's got a kick, alright! This is amazing, Regina! Dare I say, it's even better than Granny's!" Emma exclaimed, still digging into the lasagna with unrestrained fervor.

"Thank you, Miss Swan, that's very kind" Regina helped herself to some salad. "Now, I invited you here to talk about Henry. I talked it over with him, and I believe we have come up with a suitable living arrangement for him." The two brunettes exchanged a look. "Do you want to tell her, Henry?"

"Go ahead, I'm listening" Emma continued shoveling lasagna into her mouth like no tomorrow.

"Mom thought it'd be a good idea if I stayed with her during the week. That way, she could help me with my homework and make sure I'm getting to school on time. But, she's letting me stay with you for the whole weekend after that." Henry beamed. "Isn't that awesome, Emma? We're gonna do so much cool stuff together!"

"Sounds great, kid" Emma smiled, wiping her mouth on a linen napkin. She had finally finished all her lasagna and pushed her plate away in surrender. "I'm stuffed, Regina. I can't handle another bite."

"That's too bad, Miss Swan" Regina purred, getting up from the table and heading back into the kitchen. "Because I prepared a very special dessert for you. I do hope you like apples."

Henry gave Emma a significant look. "Apples. Emma, she's the Evil Queen! You can't eat what she gives you!"

"Henry, she's not the Evil Queen, that's just a story, and her lasagna seemed fine. Why would she try to poison me with dessert?"

"It has apples" Henry looked at her like she was an idiot. "Poison apples are kind of her thing. She feels threatened by you and wants you out of the way. The only reason she invited you here tonight was to lull you into a false sense of security."

"That's ridiculous, Henry, I'm sure that's not true" Emma replied just as Regina returned with a plate stacked high with steaming hot apple turnovers.

"Here they are; my special apple turnovers. It's an old family recipe." She set them down on the table with a flourish. "First one for the guest" Regina took the topmost turnover, which appeared a bit larger than the rest, and placed it on Emma's plate. "Henry, help yourself. I need to use the restroom." Regina sashayed out of the room, leaving Emma alone with Henry once more.

"Emma, you can't eat that! It's poisoned!" Henry argued passionately.

"What, do you think she spiked it with arsenic or something? It's fine, Henry, I'm not going to die from eating a pastry." Emma responded dryly.

"But that's not an ordinary pastry! Don't you see, Emma? She had a special turnover picked out for you. I'll bet you anything yours is poisoned and the rest are fine." Henry glared at her, disappointed that she didn't believe him.

"Kid, that's-"

"It's not ridiculous!" Henry interrupted her. "Here, I'll prove it to you." He grabbed her plate and switched it with his, bringing the turnover up to his face. At that moment, Regina walked through the door, able to watch this unfold.

"Henry, no, don't eat that!" Regina cried out. In her desperation, she took the turnover from him and stuffed it into her own mouth, forcing herself to chew and swallow the poisoned pastry. As soon as it slid down her throat, her eyes rolled back into her head and she went limp, falling to the ground.

In a flash, Emma was down next to Regina, fanning her face and applying a wet napkin to her forehead. "No, no, Regina, come back to us. Henry, call 911!"

Henry just regarded her sadly. "She's not passed out, Emma. She's under a sleeping curse. Only true love's kiss can save her now, and she doesn't have a true love."

The wheels in Emma's head were spinning at a million miles per hour. What could she do? Something, anything…

"Henry, you think I'm the Savior, right? The White Knight, or whatever?"

"Yeah, Emma, you're supposed to break the curse" Henry said excitedly. "You're finally catching on."

Emma took a deep breath. "Here goes nothing" she said before lowering her lips gently to Regina's, barely touching them.

All of a sudden, a burst of white light whooshed out from them, spreading in waves as if from an epicenter. Regina slowly opened her eyes and smiled softly at Emma.

"You…you saved me" she sputtered, coughing. "But that's impossible. Only my true love could do that, and he died years ago." She looked from Emma to Henry in disbelief.

"Well, I guess he wasn't it, because otherwise, you'd still be comatose" Emma shrugged her shoulders uncomfortably. "It makes sense, you know. The White Knight, saving the Evil Queen. It's quite poetic, actually."

"White Knight…Evil Queen…Emma, you did it! The curse is broken!" Henry exclaimed.

"I suppose it is" Regina said, while Emma gaped comically at the pair. "I should find a place to hide. A town full of fairy tale characters with twenty-eight years of pent up resentment is probably not the best of company for me at the moment." She joked, trying to make light of the enormity of the situation.

Emma clapped a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, Regina. I will save you. I will always save you."

* * *

**A/N 2:** There you have it, folks. The curse is broken, with a hefty dose of SwanQueen. For those who don't ship SwanQueen, I apologize. Please don't hate me too much, but this was too good to pass up. For those who do, consider it my treat. Again, this has been planned for weeks now, and yet it paralleled tonight's episode perfectly. Congrats to **daypegoraro**, **Linzerj**, **Cherry**, **kirauza343**, **kb5000**, **sudoku**, and **MusicalGirl97**, who guessed the last letter correctly. Although there isn't a person to guess this chapter, I would still love to know your thoughts about it. Please, if you ship something different, try to be polite in your reviews. Let's ship and let ship. As for the sequel, it'll happen in the fall, as I'm devoting the summer to my numerous neglected fics. Glad to hear there's interest in it even with a delay. Thank you once more for your continued support; I can't stress enough how much your reviews, follows, favorites, and views mean to me. I'm still not crying; saving that for next week. Have a lovely week, don't forget to review, and see you back here next week for the epilogue!


	21. Epilogue

**Author's Note:** Saving my speech (and tears) for after. I apologize for last week's chapter; it could have been written better, but it is what it is. I'm glad at least a few of you enjoyed it. SwanQueen was always endgame in my mind, so if that bothered you, I apologize. Here's the long-awaited epilogue to get you through week 1 of the hiatus.

_Standard Disclaimer:_I don't own Once Upon a Time, only my own alterations to the plot.

* * *

After the last letter had been sent and answered, the entire town fell into an eerie calm. Everyone was too afraid to comment on the town-wide correspondence that had just occurred. No one brought up even the most slightly controversial idea, in fear of being discovered as a letter writer or answerer and having their role in the process identified. It appeared that the letter box had worked too well. Not only had all the fighting stopped; all the communication had as well.

Silence reigned the town until the next evening. That fateful night, a certain blonde was invited to dinner at a certain brunette's house. When their lips met, the curse that had gripped the town for 28 years was broken. At that moment, every magically suppressed memory rushed back, and the fairytale characters that had been forced to live as natives of this land once again resumed their true identities.

Snow White and her Prince Charming shared a passionate kiss. Grumpy was reunited with his dwarf brothers; Nova with her fellow fairies. Geppetto realized that his much longed for son had been working for him for the past week or so. Red and her granny had it, perhaps, the easiest; the curse had been kind to them and left them together. One by one, the townspeople remembered who they really were; two lives now entwined in one being. Marriages, children, families, rivalries, tragedies; all were brought back with a striking clarity.

The breaking of the curse had not, as they had expected, obliterated their Storybrooke identities. Instead, it superimposed on them the roles they had played in the Enchanted Forest. As if this wasn't enough to deal with at the moment, the fallout from the letters suddenly became urgent; the implications realized with the resuming of their lives where they had been paused 28 years earlier. It was as if the previous day had been an escape from reality; as if they'd realized that none of this was real, and yet, the fact that they chose to participate in it had made it irrefutably so.

It started slowly. Someone had made the connection about what this all meant, and it trickled through the town. By the morning after, the entire town of Storybrooke was back at Granny's, quarreling as before this great experiment, but this time with greater ammunition. Some had figured out who had answered their letters and demanded an explanation for the answers they had received. Others lashed out at the crowd at large, not knowing whom exactly to target.

The fight lasted hours. Fists flew as easily as insults; derogatory comments hurled with the punches. When the frenzy rose to its peak, someone noted that they were blaming the wrong people for this. Really, all of it could be traced back to the Queen, who, along with Emma Swan and Henry, was conspicuously absent from this brawl. She must have been hiding.

Their manic rage renewed, the crowd poured out of Granny's, out for blood; the blood of the Queen who had wronged them so. They would have made it all the way to the mayoral mansion and tortured Regina, or worse, if it hadn't been for the note they encountered hanging above the box.

_Dear Storybrooke,_

_ This is becoming ridiculous. When I started the box, I did so with the intention that is would resolve the issues plaguing our town, not prolong them. All it has done is caused us to suppress our problems instead of dealing with them. I am disappointed. I had expected more of you. As many of you have guessed by now, it was I who orchestrated the box. It is time to reveal my identity. It was me, Archie Hopper, your friendly neighborhood psychiatrist. I've monitored your progress the entire time, without becoming involved, and I have to say that the stubbornness and hatred in this town astounds me. Although some have been helped by the letters, the overwhelming majority does not seem to have been. Not only have you not resolved the difficulties among yourselves, but you have buried them even deeper. Anonymously, it appears that my little experiment was a success. When it came to confessing face to face and speaking to those directly involved in your conflicts, you are still afraid. Since the letters appear to have helped personally, I think that as a town, we are ready for the next step: face to face discussion and resolution of our problems. If you have written and replied to a letter, come to the elementary school gymnasium, as my office is too cramped to fit everyone. I know exactly who was involved and will know if you have decided not to show up. Another point must be brought up. I know that at the moment your feelings for Regina are not exactly positive, but violence is not the answer. She will be at this meeting, and if you could kindly refrain from hurting her, and each other, it would be much appreciated. Everything that happens at this meeting will be entirely confidential and will not spread beyond the room. Do not hesitate to share. You will only get as much out of it as you put in, so please participate. I look forward to seeing you all there and finally getting this resolved._

_ Sincerely,_

_ Dr. Hopper_

The entire town stared at the notice in blank confusion for a few minutes. Finally, those who had participated in the letter writing chain trudged reluctantly toward the elementary school while the rest went home to unwind, each in their own way, and try to forget their troubles.

When the crowd arrived at the gym, they found it empty except for Archie. Metal chairs had been arranged in a circle, and he was seated directly opposite the door. One by one, they found a place to sit and sat down uneasily, waiting to begin.

Archie merely glanced at the clock hanging above the door. At that moment, Emma ran through the door, slightly winded, and sat in an empty chair, one of a few that were left.

"Sorry I'm late, Doc. Had to go take of…a Sheriff emergency" she wheezed out, still catching her breath. The psychiatrist raised an eyebrow, but merely nodded in response.

Still, they didn't start. A couple minutes later, Regina walked calmly through the door with Henry in tow. Her imposing presence was enough to quell any curious questioning.

"I apologize for our tardiness, Doctor Hopper. Henry and I had a little situation we needed to take care of at home. I do hope we didn't keep you waiting long" Regina said smoothly, raising an eyebrow in question at the end.

"Not at all, Regina. Now that everyone's here, we can begin" He clasped his hands, clearly waiting for someone to start talking.

An awkward silence ensued. People shuffled in their chairs and cleared their throats, but no one spoke. After 15 minutes, Regina had had enough. She stood up abruptly, causing everyone's heads to turn toward her.

"Thank you, Doctor Hopper, but this has been enough. I really must be going. I was brought here under the impression we would be discussing our problems and resolving them. Since that is clearly not going to occur, I'll go do something productive with my time". She shot a withering glare around the room.

"Well, Regina, if the lack of discussion is bothering you, then you have the floor. Please" He swept his arm to the chair she had just vacated. Frustrated, she sat back down and addressed him once more.

"What I don't understand, Doctor Hopper, is why we need to share our problems with everyone in this room. I mean, you said you had been keeping track of who exchanged letters using this box. Why don't you just tell us what is wrong and help us fix it?" She had crossed her arms across her chest.

Archie laughed. "Oh no, Regina. I believe you misunderstood me. I merely observed who took letters from the box and put them in. I did not read a single one. That would be a gross invasion of privacy. Why don't you start by telling us if the box helped you, and then the rest can follow?"

Regina sighed in a long-suffering manner. "Very well. The box did help, somewhat. I was having issues with Henry, and after receiving the reply, I had a nice long conversation with him. It's still not perfect, but we're both trying." She gave her son's shoulder a friendly squeeze.

"That's wonderful, Regina" Archie gave her a friendly smile. "And what about you, Henry?"

"My letter was about the curse and that broke, so no problem there" Henry smiled widely.

At this point, Leroy stood. "Why do we have to hear about the Evil Queen's problems? She ruined our lives. She doesn't deserve to be here with the rest of us." He was about to move forward when Archie got up to restrain him.

"You will sit down and listen, like we will listen to you. Otherwise, Emma here can have you spend the night in jail. Are we clear?" No one had ever heard Archie speak in such a low and dangerous voice.

"Yeah, yeah, sheesh" Leroy slumped back into his chair.

"Now who else wants to share?" Archie asked pleasantly, as if nothing had happened.

David looked from Kathryn to Mary Margaret, who both nodded, then started. "As you all know, in Storybrooke I was married to Kathryn. However, Mary Margaret here; Snow, is my true love. Somehow I ended up married to two women at the same time; a situation that made none of us happy. So, Kathryn and I will be getting a divorce and she will be marrying Frederick, her true love." Archie nodded in approval.

"Very good. And I'm assuming the letters had a role in this decision?"

"Yes. Kathryn and I were going to separate anyways, before the curse broke. It was for the better. We discussed it after I got my reply."

"Well I'm certainly glad that dilemma was resolved. Anyone else care to share?"

Ruby hemmed and hawed nervously. "I guess I'll go. As some of you may know, my granny and me have had our struggles, but thanks to these letters we got through them" She gave her granny a quick hug, beaming.

All of a sudden, the responses started pouring in, everyone talking over one another.

"I was reunited with my father."

"We decided to stay together, screw the system."

"I learned how to talk to women properly."

"After all these years, I'm going to find my son."

"And I'm going to help him."

On they continued to chatter. Only Sidney, Ashley, and Mother Superior stayed silent. The letters hadn't helped them at all. In fact, they had made their lives worse. In the commotion that ensued, they excused themselves, each to go wallow in their own private misery.

By the time the excitement subsided, the previous tension had been diffused. Satisfied, Archie motioned for everyone to sit back down and be quiet.

"I think we've all made a lot of progress today. You should be proud. This town is far from the hateful mess it was a month ago. We can pick up the issues raised today in private sessions, as I realize not every problem was shared here. Write a letter to me about your problem, old or new, and I'll schedule you an appointment. Good work everyone." Archie concluded the meeting with a smile.

Slowly, everyone got up and staggered out of the gym. David and Mary Margaret walked out, holding hands. Reunited families left together. Gold hobbled out, determined to pack for his big trip. Leroy and Astrid left separately, but rendezvoused when they thought no one was looking. Finally, only Emma, Regina, and Henry were left.

"Better get going" Regina said. "We wouldn't want to spend the night here."

"You're right" Emma replied. "Come on, kiddo, let's go home."

They each took one of Henry's hands and began the walk home, feeling more hopeful than before. All was well with Storybrooke; as well as it could get. And they all lived their lives happily, far more happily than before.

* * *

**A/N 2:** The end. I hope you all enjoyed that. It was difficult to write a suitable ending, but this one seemed to fit. It leads right into the sequel, which will be happening in the fall, so stay tuned! Okay, speech time. When I started this story, I had no idea how much it, or you guys, would mean to me. It was a silly idea I got one day that I almost didn't carry through. Now, almost 5 months later, it's amazing to see all the reviews and love it's gotten. It's been my one constant through a turbulent semester. I knew that on Sunday nights, I could always look forward to reading your lovely reviews and being cheered up by them. This semester was kind of rough, so that meant a lot to me. This is the longest thing I've ever written, and seeing it finished, I feel like I can do anything. It has been an absolute honor and a privilege to write for such devoted readers. Thank you to my readers who came back every week; to all those who reviewed, regular or guest; to every follow and favorite this story got. The encouragement is amazing, and I'm flattered to have known such wonderfully kind readers. It's kind of sad to post this and mark this story as complete, but never fear, the fall sequel is near! Please don't hesitate to review and tell me what you thought. I'm going to go to bed now (and do my best not to cry), but know that I am grateful for every single one of you. Thanks for sticking out my crazy ride till the end. See you in the fall!


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